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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 10 months ago

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a/n: 2.1k w.count- boothill needs a lil tune up [...y'all should've seen this one comin' honestly]

you're not sure why you bother setting an alarm every time you go to sleep. you don't even know when you'll be sleeping for one; it could be in the afternoon, it could be in the morning, it could be for ten minutes at your workbench, and on the rare occasion, you can even go to bed at night like everyone else. although, that last option when blessed upon you, never lasted the whole night.

as for the original dilemma of alarm clocks? who needs 'em! the critters getting into your shop and wrecking your tools around were a surefire way to get your blood pumping with a wild chase around the shop with a hefty, swinging wrench. kids stopping by to see the newest hunk-of-junk thing you've been tinkering with or maybe even bringing you some toy to fix with whimpering chins are always sure to keep you awake- you couldn't send them away with smashed hopes. perhaps it was a good natured older lady or gentlemen just stretching their legs one fine morning after you had pulled an all nighter, but now you have to entertain their gossip well into the morning past the ass-crack of dawn because you can't be a bad host!

this instance, however, just so happens to be the familiar sound of heavy, metal boots clanking their way through the shop's public entrance. the sound of the stomping reverberates around your small little rest room at the back of your shop through the camera feed you keep running at all hours (mostly for those critters previously mentioned). having just fallen asleep on top of being hyperaware of sounds from the feed, your eyes fly open. with a well-overdramatic, one-person show worthy groan evolved to frustrated yell, you were throwing your shabby blanket off your legs.

"wakey, wakey!" the synthetic voice of an overly familiar man projects into your room.

you stomp across the room in two short strides. slamming your palm down on a button attached to a small table with all sorts of other switches and knobs, the small indicator that audio is feeding from your microphone kicks on as red as your temper.

"the hell do you want?" you growl, voice muffled at the end of your exhausted question by your free hand running down your face. you hear his voice chuckle on the other end. peering through your fingers into the video screen, he had moved to stand away from your shop door. his arms are crossed across his metallic chest, chin tilted up so his one eye can gaze into the camera that follows his movements.

"now, now, sugar," he chuckles, "just open the door, would ya'? i could use some fixin' up." as if trying to coax you into letting him in, he waves one of his arms around by the elbow.

you're not sure if he heard you click your tongue before you lifted your hand off the audio feed button, but he chuckles nonetheless as the soft click of disconnection echoes on his end. he knew you'd come racing to the door... well, at the very least you wouldn't leave him out to dry.

the cowboy dips his chin and chuckles under his breath as the brim of his hat shadows his face. he could hear you stomping your way towards him and just imagining your irritated face with a possibly twitching brow was highly amusing to him.

the door in front of his toes swings open inwards and the rush of air as it did so flutters his long bangs that always covered the right side of his face. his chin rises a fraction, and he was right. your face was assuming.

standing in a wrinkled shirt that you no doubt had been trying to sleep in, arms crossed and a crease so deep in your brows he was tempted to push his thumb between them.

"well," he starts, swaying his hunk of metal bodyweight to one of his equally metal legs, "ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

"what. do you want." you hiss. before he gives you a verbal answer, his arm swings down and swipes something from his pocket before presenting it in front of your face. your eyes nearly go crossed to examine it. then you're looking back up at him, not any more amused than before. "is this supposed to be a bribe?"

the cowboy shrugs playfully, twisting the covered candied sucker between his fingers.

"do ya' want it to be?"

you roll your eyes, bringing your arm up to snatch the small boost of sugar from him. "just get in here, boothill." you sigh, free hand coming to rub your forehead. turning your body to retreat back into your home, the clanking of him following behind echoes at your back.

boothill whistles at the state of the familiar shop he'll find himself in from time to time for quick fix-ups. a workbench loaded with heaps of scrap metal, tools, random bobbles, and screws all littered on top of pages and printed blueprints of projects or repairs. it's even more of a chaotic mess than last time. he sits on the stool he normally snags as his when he's here and, without speaking, you're hooking up a small machine attached to the wall next to the bench and offering him the end of a circular cord.

"need a charge?" you ask with a small lisp from the candy you had already unwrapped and placed in your mouth against your cheek.

"well, why not," he entertains. taking the thick, extendable cord from your hand and plugging it into the port on his lower back.

you flit around a few other places before your snagging a stoll for yourself and placing it in front of his knees. you push some estranged tools around with your forearm and, while moving your sucker from one cheek to the other, you begin to maneuver your hair out of your face.

boothill enjoys watching you in this way. it felt familiar- just seeing someone move around in rather mundane ways. this small sense of domesticity was familiar and comfortable. it calmed him; reminding him of home.

"what's the problem?" you finally ask, looking a tad bit more awake and more or less ready to work on whatever issue he had to present.

his right arm moves to cross his lap and his palm bangs twice on his opposing forearm where his internal revolver barrel is.

"i got myself in quite a fuss with this dang thing. forkin' bullet got jammed in the goose-dud thing and i can't even pop the barrel open to reload it."

you stare at him like he just said the dumbest thing you've ever heard. "you came all the way here. because your arm got jammed by a bullet." the way you spoke sounded exactly how you looked at him.

"this ain't no one-handed fix, sugar." you stay quiet, not willing to admit he had a point. using both hands to not only try and pop open the jam, but also tinker around with what was essentially his whole arm's motion control- that did require a bit more finesse than just slamming his arm on a wall until it gave way... which is precisely what you could imagine him doing.

"fine," you yield. "take off that sorry excuse of a 'jacket' unless you want that sleeve covered in oil."

you twist away from him, half-standing at a strange angle to reach across your workbench for something as the satisfying sound of the bottom of his small zipper unlatches. shrugging it off, he tosses it onto your bench, covering a few loose tools and scribblings of paper.

you fully get out of your stool and trot over to the other side of the shop to roll over a smaller table with a metal tub. you wheel it to his left and, without instruction, boothill lays his arm over it.

as you begin to tinker around with his arm, picks, pliers, oil and all working on trying to dislodge the stray bullet that had caused such an issue, boothill has taken to lounging comfortably as he watches.

his right arm, free of any issues or problem fixing, was propped up on the corner of your workbench at his side with his forearm resting along the edge. his metal fingers had snagged a stray nail from the workspace and had been twirling it absent-mindedly between his knuckles like a bullet.

the only words spoken between you both as you worked was the occasional quick apology if something you did prods against a wire that sent a shock up his arm or made his fingers twitch.

"easy. last thing we need ya' doin' is settin' my gun off, sugar," he had told you. just because his arm machinery wasn't properly loaded- ain't nothing was stopping you from accidentally relodging the bullet and sending it through your wall. the sudden discharge coupled with his exposed wires could easily kick his arm back with enough recoil to knock you clean out with how close you were leaning in to see what you were doing.

"okay..!" you whisper to yourself before the sound of something sliding down in his arm is followed by a sensation; one he was almost familiar with. "give me a wrench. heavy," you instruct. on hand was spread across his forearm just at the start of the revolver barrel, the other outstretched towards your bench. grabbing the nearest one, he slaps it into your palm.

with a two, heavy whacks using your newly acquired wrench, you slam the barrel shut and boothill lets out a small breath.

"now, that feels a heck of a lot better," he chuckles. you reach around his forearm, release the tension latch and the barrel swings out successfully. with your pliers, you easily remove one problematic, greasy bullet. "knew i could count on you to get the job done."

"and thanks to you, my hands are gross," you chide. fingers greased in oil. boothill grabs a rag from your workbench drawer and tosses it over your sullied hands. you start working the cloth between your fingers the moment it hits your skin. "i recommend you stick around and charge up before heading out on whatever you got lined up next."

"shucks, you mean it?" you can't tell if he's genuinely thankful you'd allow him to stay or if he was just being facetious. once your hands were at least dry, you start using it to wipe down his arm next.

"course i do. i'll have to give you a quick check again before you go. i'll mess around and try and make it so it doesn't jam like that again. whatever tech-doc you worked with before really needed to focus on the finer details." boothill wondered if you knew that you had lifted his newly repaired limb and started rotating and twisting it like you were admiring your work. like you were admiring him.

"they don't matter no more," he tells you. "i got ya' now, don't i? who needs some random rear shirt-bag, when i got the best in the forkin' business right here?"

"careful now. flattery will get your everywhere."

"no shirt?"

"watch your mouth," you tease before you stand. "i mean it though. stay put and charge."

"i ain't no stupid electronic," he clicks. his body moves and twists so both of his arms are now leaning on the workbench behind him. both elbows supporting him as his arms dangle off the ledge. "but I hear ya'." his eye shuts under the shadow of his hat.

his eye reopened no sooner than it shut when the shadow caused by the brim of his cowboy hat disappeared and the light of your shop flitered through his eyelids. with a clear, open eye, he lifts his chin to see you standing in front of him.

you had pinched the brim of his hat between your fingers, snatching it off his head and revealing the fullness of his long, dual-colored hair and cross-hair-infused eye. you take his hat and nonchalantly toss it behind his right shoulder to avoid getting any residual oil from his left arm on it.

"take your damn hat off inside my shop will you? you don't need it." you turn away from him as he continues to stare at your back, slack jawed. you mutter something about washing your hands and arms before you disappear behind a doorway and around the corner of the wall. he'd been in the entirety of your shop before, so he knows where you went but all he could think about was you flicking his hat off him.

the cowboy let his head fall backward, the hair on the backside of his skull tangling with screws and pencils as his right hand comes to rest over his face. he can hear the water running in the other room.

"ah, son of a nice lady...!"

boothill has really got to tell you not to mess with his hat.

a/n: one day i'll write a flirty hat rule fic. *sigh* one day.

#honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill x y/n #boothill fluff #honkai star rail boothill #boothill hsr #hsr boothill #boothill x you #boothill fic #boothill headcanons #boothill #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x y/n #honkai star rail fluff #boothill honkai star rail

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6toru · 5 months ago

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hi! I would be down and to see you write something with Dr. Ratio or Boothill. I was thinking something like hate s£x or dub con. Everything is fine...Have a great day tough either way <3

*ੈ✩ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. boothill x fem!reader, smut (mdni), cyborg fucking (his cöck is real tho), hate fucking, public sex, rough sex, pussy slapping, squirting, degradation (reader gets called whore & slut), explicit language / dirty talk *ੈ✩ 𝐖𝐂. 1.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. thank u for the request anon! please enjoy <3

Now, he knows pretty damn well how strong of a word 'hate' is, and he's pretty damn sure you're the epitome of the one thing he hates — that was the fucking Interastal Peace Corporation. Mission after mission, as if fate is against him, he always manages to cross paths with you; staring up at him teasingly with that coy fucking smile — coming up to him for one reason, and one reason only. He's honestly surprised as to how persistent you are despite his constant circumvents from the IPC's interventions.

"𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋, Boothill." You chime the cowboy's name, making fearless strides towards the cyborg with a piece of paper in your fists, and the other IPC staffs follow suit. Luckily, with his sharp vision, he caught wind of what the contents were in said paper, and of-fucking-course it had to be his wanted poster.

"The hell do you motherfuckers want?" The galactic cowboy raises an eyebrow, staring down at you with a look of scorn plastered across his face.

You tap the wanted poster lightly across his metallic chest, giving him the same coy smile that he's grown to hate. Right, hate. He fucking hates how dry his mouth gets whenever you pull this sort of shit. Just what exactly did you do to tamper with his system? Though, he decides to shrug those useless thoughts off his brain, as he stares down at you with a pointed look in his eyes, and a dry, disinterested chuckle escapes his lips.

"You know what I'm holding in my hand, right? Turns out, you're now wanted for deliberate acts of sabotage against IPC facilities and posing a serious threat to universal public property safety. Got anything to say to that?"

"The IPC deserves all the shit that's coming to 'em," replies Boothill, sparing you a toothy smile laced with venom all whilst adjusting his cowboy hat. You continue to stand your ground, raising an eyebrow towards the male.

"You're wanted," you firmly state, shrugging your shoulders. "Whether you like it or not, you're coming with us. I let it slide multiple times before, but the higher ups are getting rather impatient."

"Give the fuck up, Sapphire or whatever the fuck gem you are. I ain't going anywhere with you IPC shits." The silver-haired man retorts, "I didn't go with you then, and I ain't going with you now."

"If ya keep persisting..." He digs a hand inside his pocket, slowly drawing out his gun. "Then, I challenge ya to a duel. if I win, you gotta let me go again. how's that sound?"

Immediately, your henchmen draws out their weapons. You raise a hand up, signalling the men to lower their weapons. Heaving a sigh of chagrin, you roll your eyes. Crossing your arms, a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "Fine, Cowboy. I'll entertain you one last time."

"If fighting's what you really want, then let's duel." You say, drawing out your weapon. "Though, don't blame me for what's about to come next. I won't go easy on you this time."

The exact words you had uttered are immediately shoved back down your throat when you find yourself pressed against the cool, brick walls along the isolated alleyway; both your weapons are splayed across the concrete, and your little mewls of wanton are muffled by the surprisingly soft plush of his lips. He bites down your lips softly, though it's enough to draw a small amount of blood due to his sharp canines.

"Hey, hey. Don't you care about your little henchmen hearing those dirty noises you're makin' right now, sweetheart?" Comments Boothill, and it's almost as if he's sneering at you – only, if it isn't for the way your walls clench around him so deliciously; making him nearly just as fucked out as you are.

Each rock of his hips sends you closer, and closer to cloud nine. You didn't know exactly how your due transitioned into fucking, but you're too fucked out to even care. The lines between that of hatred and arousal has long since been blurred.

He's supposed to hate you. For god's sake, you're part of the corporate he fucking despises — the very same corporate that reignited his need for revenge and destruction; the very reason as to why he became the way he is now. You're in the fuckin' IPC, but for fuck's sake! But, there's simply no denying that he's getting immensely high off of your pussy, and he can't bring himself to stop. Oh, how he loves the way he can easily wipe that coy smile off your face, only for it to be replaced with that of desperation and pure ecstasy.

"O-Oh fuck, fuck, fuck... Ah! Y-You're so f-fucking deep!" You stammer out, and when he resumes his relentless pace — your lips immediately latch onto his neck, biting at the cool metal plate that coats his flesh. If he continues to fuck you at this pace, you're convinced he's going to destroy you. With the way he's fucking you, it's beyond human.

"Where'd all that venom of yours go? Hm?" Boothill hums against your lips, swiping his tongue along the outlines of your lips; coating his tongue in crimson. "Ya told me moments before you wouldn't go easy on me. Be honest, you wanted this all this time."

With one strong thrust of his hips, the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, and your body jolts forward. A sharp, pathetic yelp escapes your lips as your hands immediately reach towards his shoulders for support. Albeit, as pathetic as you appear beneath his larger frame, shocks of arousal travels straight down to his cock, so much that it almost becomes sore. It almost makes him want to fuck you with thrice the fervour.

A shit-eating grin begins to tug at the corners of his lips, and maybe you would have smacked it off if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s fucking the living shit out of you.

"You dirty fuckin' slut," hisses the male in between staggered thrusts, "can't even deny it too, huh? Hah— Wonder what your higher ups are goin' to think once they realize that their little IPC agent is nothin' more than a cock hungry slut for the wanted guy on the poster."

"Mm — Fuck, fuck. Ngh." You're barely coherent with your words, the climb to your release is inching closer, and closer.

A sharp sting emanates from your swollen cunt, and Boothill repeats the motion once more — placing light, yet firm smacks across your sensitive clit all whilst thrusting his cock inside yours like he's a fucking madman. He clenches his jaw, his brows furrowed as he relishes in the way your pussy squeezes on his cock like a vice.

"Answer me, slut." He orders, his warm breath fanning over your neck as he licks a long strip along your collarbone to your jaw. Without thinking, you lean your head back, giving the cyborg male more access to the spot. Waves of pleasure hits you like a truck when you reach your high for the second time, your juices spraying all over his cock and abdomen along with a shaky moan that slips past your lips.

"F-Fuck you," you manage to gasp out, sending him a death glare following his cruel ministrations. "Y-You... Mmh– You're so fuckin' mean..! Ah!"

"You're sayin' all that, but your pussy's beggin' me to stay." He rasps, his low, baritone voice hitching at every thrust he ruts into you; the little groans that falls past his lips effortlessly inches you closer and closer to your release, and the volume of your moans merely increases.

"Shiiiit," the word rolls down his tongue, his mouth hung open as he revels in the lewd sight before him. "You love bein' fucked by a cyborg man that bad, hm?"

Clenching his jaw and furrowing his brows, the male hoists you up in the air in one swift movement; anchoring your legs with his herculean arms, and when he thrusts his hips back into yours, eliciting a loud, uncontrollable squeak to fall past your lips. You didn't expect him to reach deeper, but he fully surpasses your expectations. Trembling beneath his touches, you swear you're this close to coming for the third time.

"Admit it, sweetheart. You lost." Boothill hums, though his breathing remains hitched – perhaps, even more so with each thrust he plummets into you.

"Shut up," you retort, and a small moan follows, and you fail to realize the small beads of saliva trailing down your lips; viscous like honey. "T-This wasn't... Mmm... part of the duel."

Shit. The sight's enough to get his dick twitching, growing more and more desperate for release.

"Ya do realize how slutty and pathetic you're lookin' like right now?" He huffs out, a guttural chuckle rumbles from his throat. "Besides – Hah, fuck. You think you can still fight right after I'm done with you?"

You bite your lip at his words, "What if I don't wanna?"

"Say it," orders Boothill, "admit I won, and I'll give you exactly what you've always wanted. If not, I'm gonna leave you high and dry, and I have no problem doin' that."

He eventually slows down with his pace, and his eyes slowly trail down your face; relishing in the way your face scrunches in pure ecstasy, your lips quivering as you attempt to mask your strong dismay at his words.

"You asshole..."

Your fingers travel up towards the back of his scalp, running your digits through his silver locks before giving them a harsh tug; eliciting a harsh hiss from your supposed nemesis. "The fuck was that for—?"

"D-Don't you dare fucking stop, Boothill." You hiss at him, cutting him off. It almost sounds pathetic, nearly coming off as a sob as you desperately rock your hips closer to his. Tears are stinging at the corners of your eyes as you begin to ramble off. "Fine, you fuckin' win! I don't care anymore, just make me come!"

Despite being stuffed full with his dick, you're still aching for more. Boothill nearly cums at the sight, but with the little self-control that remains within him, he relents.

"What about the higher ups?" He teases you, his warm breath fanning over your ears before he begins to nibble on the skin with his sharp canines. "Didn't you say they were... rather impatient?"

"I'll..." You try to utter, but another moan threatens to slip past your lips and you gulp, breathing shakily. "Mmm... I'll tell them to be more patient."

"Good girl," he praises you, digging his fingers deeper into the plush of your ass, "just exactly what I wanted to fuckin' hear."

"Fuck," you sob, "Just fuckin' give it to me, 'm so, so close. Please."

"Oh, don't you worry." Boothill hums at you, grinning. "I'll reward you generously."

#★ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 #hsr x reader smut #hsr smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr fanfic #boothill x reader #boothill smut #boothill x reader smut #boothill x y/n #boothill x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x you #boothill hsr #hsr boothill #boothill honkai star rail

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msgexymunson · 1 year ago

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"Uh, excuse me, I have a job for you."

*Eddie gestures to The Goods*

😏

God why do I have a full blown mental image. Oh and of course, smut ensues. 😅

Warnings: oral male receiving, allusions to fem oral, established relationship.

"Oh, and what am I supposed to do with that?" You ask, curling an eyebrow, but there's a hint of mischief behind your eyes.

"Well, you're not feeling great and you always say you feel better when you entertain for Eddie Jr and the Goblins-"

"The Goblins??" You giggle, hand forming over your mouth to hide your amusement.

"Yeah, the Goblins. Ugly, wrinkly, live in the underdark?" He shrugs with wide eyes, as if this is stated fact.

The laugh that expels from your chest can no longer be hidden, ringing out long and loud. To Eddie's absolute amazement and joy, you fall to your knees.

"So, Eddie Jr's been missing me? And his little Goblins need some attention too, huh?" Small fingers run up Eddie's fly, locating the zip to pull it down with exaggerated slowness.

Eddie's next words are stuttered at best.

"Y-yeah, I-I mean, o-of course, fuck... but th-they ain't little."

Chuckling as you shuffle his jeans and boxers midway down his toned thighs, your firm palms drag up his exposed skin, relishing in the shake that takes over his legs.

"Of course not. Big, manly goblins."

As if to accentuate your point, you roll one of his heavy balls inbetween your lips, tongue circling it wetly.

"O-oh holy- fuck, sweetheart!"

"I thought they were-"

"OK, OK, just- please-"

Smiling and palming his length, you lick his tip, gathering the small pearl of pre cum, the taste exploding on your tongue.

"Aah, yeah, take it princess."

Happy to oblige, you envelop the whole of him into your warm wet mouth, gagging slightly when it hits the back of your throat. Working the moistened shaft with one hand, you swallow around him, revelling in the feel of his throbbing length in your mouth. Its oddly conforting; a distraction to keep you mindful and grounded in the here and now. He feels warm and solid, pulsating with need so violently that it cries for you. A salty, coagulation of a tear; hitting your throat with the tang of requirement.

"Fuck, sweetheart, th-thats, oh fuck, you're so warm-"

Humming in response, you take him deep; as deep as you can go. Swallowing around him again and again, you roll his balls in your soft hands to coax him to completion.

You don't have long to wait.

"Sweetheart, oh holy hell I'm gonna- shiiit-"

Chuckling with him stuffed inside your mouth proves too much for Eddie. With a final shudder he explodes onto your waiting tongue, flooding each sense with his release.

You suck, and suck, until he blindly yanks you off of him with tears springing to the corners of his eyes.

"Job well done?" You ask cockily, the smug grin smeared all over. Until, he speaks.

"Yes. Now, its your turn. Lie back."

Oh shit.

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x female reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader

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pedropascallme · 1 year ago

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The Weather Ain't Been Bad

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: “You had barely made it off the last step, rounding the corner to the kitchen, when you heard a voice call your name. You flinched, hand flying to your chest in a brief moment of panic, not suspecting anybody else to be awake, let alone downstairs, while you were roaming the halls like some kind of restless spirit.”

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI) p in v sex, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), spitting, Damien is a biter but we knew that, lots of begging and even more praise, Damien likes getting his hair pulled but we knew that. If I missed anything please let me know!

“You look dumb.”

“I’ll literally—look at me, look at me. Shut up.”

You listened to Shayne and Angela argue in the back seat, their back and forth had started as a game of I-spy and quickly devolved into improvised insults on hour one of the drive after a patch of traffic resulted in a lack of things to spy.

“Literally nothing you say could ever affect me I don’t care about anything you have to say to me.” Shayne deadpanned and you heard Angela let out a shrill sound as she tried to climb out of her seatbelt to punch him in the arm.

“Hey, you know what would actually be really fun?” Damien, driving, looked back at them through the rearview mirror, “If you guys would, uh, shut the hell up?”

You laughed quietly; head propped up on the window as you watched the California landscape go from dusty highway to snowcapped trees. Hours long car ride aside, you were happy to be making the trip. It had never occurred to you that upon Anthony’s return to the company there would be a renaissance of Smosh content that didn’t have to do with the main channel, but when they announced the return of the Winter Games you felt a swell of joy—it was nice to be part of something that went back so many years and still continued to entertain the masses, especially when that something made you feel a cathartic sort of nostalgia.

And now, sitting in the front seat and listening to your friends threaten each other in increasingly ridiculous ways, watching Damien’s hand on the steering wheel, it went beyond simple nostalgia: It was pure ecstasy. The low hum of music on the radio paired nicely with the long road ahead, and you leaned back, closing your eyes for a moment.

You felt a hand on your knee, giving you a short squeeze. You opened your eyes, grabbing Damien’s hand and squeezing him back.

“What?” You playfully pushed his hand back towards his body, and he gripped the steering wheel.

“You’re my GPS, you can’t fall asleep.”

“I could navigate!” Angela leaned forward, elbows on the center console.

“You—you would get us lost in your own house, you psycho.” Amanda piped up for the first time in several minutes, placing a hand gingerly on Angela’s shoulder and laughing.

“Hey!” Angela turned her attention away from the front seat, pushing against Shayne, who had started laughing at her expense once more.

Damien glanced at you from his peripheral, as if to silently lament about your friends in the back seat, and you glanced back, smiling.

You appreciated the moments you got to spend with Damien. It wasn’t like they were rare; since you’d joined the cast, he was always someone you’d found a sort of reliability in, and a shared sense of humor went a long way. He was always a beacon of tranquility amongst the chaos of the office. He could be just as rowdy as everybody else—and often was—but he was always able to weed out when somebody needed a moment to recalibrate, and it felt like he knew what you needed before even you did sometimes. But he seemed to have that effect on most everybody, and you didn’t want to push too hard for something that might not be there, despite how happy you were to feel his hand on your back when he guided you through crowded spaces, or to hear him say your name in that faux-crestfallen way when you cheated in cards.

He turned his gaze back to the road, and you found yourself leaning against the window again, passively looking at his reflection in the trees that darted by, and thinking things that you decided should remain unsaid.

~~~

The house was gigantic, and even that was putting it lightly.

In theory, you recognized that you worked for a multi-million-dollar company, but it was more than a little weird to be standing in the doorway of a house big enough to hold at least 20 copies of your own apartment inside of it.

But you understood the want to splurge; it had been years since the last Winter Games, and even longer still since there had been a Games with Anthony. It was exciting, and even before you had gotten to the cabin-style mansion, there had been a buzz in the air; cast and crew alike vibrating in anticipation of a vacation-like period where things would be more akin to camp than to work.

Filming started immediately, and you barely had time to think about what exactly was happening before you were back in front of a camera.

Shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the cast, Ian and Anthony made picks for their respective teams; it was easy to forget that you were in a new space—it was like you’d never left the office, still in good company and laughing until your cheeks hurt. You donned the bright blue shirt that had been handed to you, and wondered how many raunchy, snow-related jokes you’d have to hear over the next week.

“Be honest with me,” you put the shirt on over the one you were already wearing, joining the side of the room with the rest of your teammates, “Are we gonna lose?”

Damien laughed, “With that attitude? Probably.”

Maybe the best part of the trip was the fact that this year marked the first time that everybody got their own room. You’d heard the stories—not that they were all that bad, but it was nice to know that even when surrounded by your friends for two weeks, you’d still be able to duck out for some private time in your own space.

Except that your room was freezing.

You hadn’t noticed it upon your arrival, coat still zipped up and adrenaline on high, but once you had showered and readied yourself for bed, you recognized the deep, unwelcome chill in your bones. The source evaded you; the windows were closed, the ceiling fan was completely still—it was a frustrating end to a long day.

You gave up, putting on a heavier sweatshirt and deciding that locating the source of the frigid air was a problem for tomorrow. There had to be extra blankets somewhere, and you tried to recall whether there had been any on the couches downstairs. Even if there weren’t, getting out of your room and regaining a little feeling in your fingers sounded appealing.

You quietly exited your bedroom.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, you shifted your weight awkwardly from side to side to avoid any sudden creaks from the old wood. The house was silent—save for the wind outside that howled against the windows every few moments—and you didn’t want to disturb the peace.

You had barely made it off the last step, rounding the corner to the kitchen, when you heard a voice call your name. You flinched, hand flying to your chest in a brief moment of panic, not suspecting anybody else to be awake, let alone downstairs, while you were roaming the halls like some kind of restless spirit.

“I’m sorry—did I scare you?” The familiar sound of timely apologies, whispered from across the room. You felt your heart settle. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, Damien,” you took measured breaths, “scared me.”

“Sorry,” his voice was low. He stood behind the kitchen island, hair messy, and it was clear he was struggling to sleep as much as you were.

“It’s ok,” you walked towards where he was standing, leaning over the island to grab at his arm reassuringly before letting go; his skin was warm against your palm, and even in the dark of the room you were unable to tear your eyes from him. “I didn’t think anybody else was up.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not by choice,” he sighed, “my room is a sauna.”

“You’ve got your own room, you couldn’t just strip down?” You raised your eyebrows, teasing him, trying not to think about how he might look spread out on his bed with nothing on.

“There are only so many layers I can take off until it’s, like, my skin,” he smiled, and you broke out into a quiet laugh.

“Well, my room is freezing, so,” you collected yourself a little, “I came down looking for more blankets, but if you wanted to switch…”

“Is the window open?” He furrowed his brow, seemingly concerned by your discomfort.

“Not even a crack,” you clarified, “Your room sounds like a dream to me right now.”

You didn’t realize how it sounded until he let out a snort, “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“You know what I meant.” You rolled your eyes, and he reached over the counter to brush his hand against yours in a gesture of peace.

You stood quietly together, enjoying each other’s company and the calm of the house. You let your hand remain under his on the granite, and he didn’t make any moves to separate from you.

“Thanks for being a good sport about navigating,” Damien ran his other hand over his face, tired after the seemingly endless day. “I know it probably wasn’t your first choice.”

“Yeah, well. You better thank God we’re on the same team, otherwise I’d use 'competitive determination' as an excuse to get back at you for keeping me up." You shot back jovially, “But, you know…it was nice to help you out.” You paused. “I liked it, actually.”

He shot you a small smile, which you returned, and the two of you let silence fall again.

“How about I see if I can find the source of whatever it is that’s making you so cold?” He tilted his head, sincerely offering to help you, and you could never say no to an offer like that.

You could never say no to Damien.

“That would be nice.” You curled your pinky into the palm of his hand before turning to lead him to your room.

You were friends, always had been upon your entrance into the company; he was an undeniably important presence in your life for that very reason—he was there. He was always there when you needed him. He was supportive and kind and stupidly funny, and, yeah, incredibly attractive. But that didn’t mean it had to be something more. Just because you looked forward to the days he came into work with dark stubble that contrasted with the silver of his hair, just because you forgot the rules to certain games sometimes because you were too focused on the way his sleeves fit around his arms, just because you loved the way his eyes trailed over your face when you told him a story and he got just as animated as you did—it didn’t have to be anything more than friendship.

But realistically, despite your insistence to your friends and to yourself that you considered Damien a great, strictly-platonic friend and nothing more, you knew what you really wanted.

You knew you wanted more.

And despite the innocent context under which you were bringing him up to your room, there was a surge of adrenaline that coursed through your chest while he trailed behind you.

“Jesus,” he pushed his shoulders back upon opening the door to your room, goosebumps pricking his skin. “Some weather we’re having.”

“I told you,” you pushed past him, kicking a stray pair of socks into the corner. “You still think you can fix it?”

“They actually call me Damien “Fix-It” Haas,” he cracked his knuckles, “Don’t look into it.”

You smiled, shaking your head, spreading your arms out to signal that he could poke around freely.

It took him approximately ten seconds to locate the thermostat behind a curtain.

“Are you serious?” You kicked yourself for missing what should’ve been so obvious.

“I’m Damien,” he went straight-faced, “And this says sixty-five degrees—how are you not frozen solid?”

“Pure will.” Your head fell back in exasperation, “How did I miss that?”

“You’re tired,” he softened, “It’s been a long day, y’know, and I bet a lot of people are too dumb to look behind curtains—”

You cut him off with a curt but soft shove to his chest, and he grabbed your hands after they made impact, both of you semi-delirious from lack of sleep and falling into a fit of giggles. He removed one of his hands from you, leaning back to change the thermostat.

“It’ll heat up eventually,” he started, “What number do you want it at?”

“Warm.”

“So, that is not a number,” he smiled at you, “I’ll put it in the seventies.”

“Thank you,” you wriggled free of the grasp he still had on your wrist, “My hero.”

You stood facing each other for a moment, neither of you ready to part for some reason.

“I should go to sleep,” you finally spoke.

“Yeah.” He agreed, voice sounding raspier than it had before. He started to walk towards the door while you leaned back onto the pillows on the bed.

“Damien,” you didn’t know what you were doing, or if you should be doing it, but it felt only logical in the moment, “Stay.”

You watched him freeze in place, turning back to look at you.

“I mean…if your room is uncomfortable to sleep in—what, are you gonna sleep on the couch?” You continued, rambling to find reasoning behind your sudden offer, “You can just stay here tonight.”

“Seriously?” He scanned your features, trying to figure out if you were serious or if this was just a joke that he hadn’t caught onto yet.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure—?”

“I’m just saying, it’s not fair that you have to spend the night in discomfort. Especially after you fixed the temperature in here.” You felt a red heat rising in your ears, but you soldiered on, still waiting for a yes or no. You watched as he turned to walk towards the door again, and your heart sank a little, before he closed the door in front of him and walked back to you.

“One hell of a sleepover—one bed, no snacks, and you don’t even have a Wii,” He feigned disappointment.

“But I hear when mom goes to sleep, they bring out Kevin’s mom.” You smiled, digging your heels into the comforter, and he laughed at the callback.

He sat on the mattress, leaning back on the pillows with you, and you used it as an excuse to angle yourself towards him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder.

“I can sleep on the floor. If you want…” He whispered, and you felt his fingers trail up your own hand.

“No,” you turned to look at him, still on your back but suddenly very aware of the proximity to which you were lying next to each other, letting him continue to run his hand along your arm. “It’s still cold in here.”

“I can turn the heat up—”

You watched as he traced the curve of your elbow with his finger before letting it fall back to your hand, “Damien, stop being a gentleman. Just share the bed with me.”

“Ok.” He stopped moving, gaze falling on you and swallowing shallowly. You laced your fingers with his. You were certain he could see your heart beating through your ribcage, or at the very least he could see the way your pulse bounced in your wrist. “Yeah, ok.”

You didn’t undress, didn’t even get under the covers, but something felt so intimate; a shift in the air. Maybe it was the new warmth that permeated throughout the room, but it was different, in the best way.

It felt like more.

He didn’t touch you, didn’t even graze your back when you turned over to get comfortable. But you felt his breath on the back of your head, rustling your hair and drifting over the back of your neck.

Your eyes stayed open, unable to let sleep take hold despite the tranquility; the moon bounced off the snow and caused a dim light to trickle through the window, and you were wide awake.

You shifted again, turning back over to face Damien. His eyes were closed, and you watched the subtle movements of his body, chest rising and falling softly with each breath.

“It’s creepy to watch people sleep.” He whispered, and you bit your tongue, unsure of what to say. Busted. He opened one eye and broke into a small smile. “Are you gonna murder me?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” You whispered back, nearly letting the sound of the wind outside drown you out.

“I could take you,” he propped himself up on his arm.

“Is that a challenge or a blanket statement?” You raised an eyebrow, “Because I wasn’t going to murder you, but those are fighting words.”

“What do you think?” He was goading you now, waiting to see if you’d back down from whatever this was, if there was a line you were going to draw.

“I think I could kick your ass.” You sat up on your knees.

“Yeah?” He looked at you, skeptical. You couldn’t think of what to say, couldn’t tell what this was, or what would happen if you crossed the physical boundary into his space.

You threw caution to the wind for the second time within the hour.

You launched yourself towards him, and he let his arm fall to the side, lying on his back as you clambered to straddle him. Grabbing his wrists, you pulled his hands above his head, letting out a small huff of victory.

You couldn’t recall a time where you’d ever been this close to Damien before. There was a pool of heat in your stomach that you tried to write off as a burst of energy—adrenaline hitting in the middle of the night—while you rationalized being in this position with him. With your friend. It was just wrestling; a playful act among companions. You’d seen people do it all the time in the office. Courtney put Spencer in a headlock the other day—you’d seen her do it to Ian the day before that. It was fine. It wasn’t anything other than roughhousing.

It didn’t have to be anything more.

“I told you.” You gloated.

“I was in a vulnerable position. This is hardly what I would call a fair fight.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

“I’m being a sore loser?” He smiled, all teeth, and you were about to respond, tell him that you had won, fair and square, and that if he wanted to lose again, you’d grant him the rematch he clearly wanted so desperately.

Instead, he flipped you onto your back, knee between your legs and one hand pinning your wrists above your head just as you had done to him.

“Never let your guard down,” He laughed, and you bit back a smile.

“That’s not fair.”

“That’s what a sore loser would say.” He taunted, and you thought you felt his grip tighten around your wrists.

You looked up at him, unsure where to go from here.

Surely, you’d separate, turn over and away from each other, fall asleep, and then act like nothing was different tomorrow—because nothing was different. Nothing had changed. This was nothing.

But you liked the way he looked like this; his knee caught between the V of your own legs, the muscles in his arm tense from the grip he had on you, his other hand planted on the bed at your side, just close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off of it. You watched him swallow.

“Tell me to let go,” he whispered, his voice gravelly. “Tell me to let go and I will.”

You didn’t move. You didn’t make a sound. All you could do was stare up at him, before you reminded yourself to speak, to say anything, to finally reveal what it was you wanted.

“Kiss me.” You were worried he wouldn’t hear it over the wind, words coming out small and breathy, but you saw the way the muscle in his jaw clicked.

He was on you instantly, colliding with you in a frenzied kiss. He let go of your wrists, and your hands came down to trail over his back, pulling him closer to you by the back of his neck. He bit at your bottom lip, and the sharp sting was counteracted quickly by the way his tongue darted over it, exploring you while you whined underneath him. He licked into your mouth, and you sucked at his tongue before letting his exploration continue, your hands reaching under the back of his shirt in an attempt to get closer, to let him suffocate you with his attention.

He pulled back, lips pink and cheeks blushed, his hand coming to hold your jaw and encourage you to open wider. He spit into your open mouth, before pushing on your jaw, encouraging you to close it. You did, swallowing his offering before opening your mouth again, sticking out your tongue as proof of your deed.

“Fuck,” he growled, hand still on your face when he reconnected his mouth to yours. It was needier now; sloppy and wet, and you could taste him perfectly like this, your spit mingling with his, licking into his mouth to get as much of him as you could.

He trailed down your body, leaving kisses on any skin available to him. The collar of your shirt exposed your clavicle, and he bit into the skin around it, sinking his teeth into you just enough for red marks to appear, before sucking a bruise onto the skin of the bone.

“Camera,” you reminded him haphazardly, “Nothing the camera can see—” You combed your fingers through his hair, pulling hard to ensure he listened to your warning, and he groaned at the pressure, removing his mouth from you.

“Right,” He was breathing hard, thumb rubbing circles on the bruise he had just made, low enough on your chest that your shirt would cover it—a secret between the two of you. He leaned back down, lips wrapping around the pulse point below your ear and peppering gentle kisses on it. You ground your hips onto him, his knee still planted between your thighs, stabilizing his position, and you felt the fabric of your pajamas catch perfectly on your clit, letting out a soft moan.

Damien watched, lips parted, as you bucked your hips against his thigh; some area of his brain wanted to let you continue, let you bring yourself to the edge by using him like this, but that was outweighed by the part of him that wanted so desperately to be the one making you cum; he wanted to make you fall apart, wanted to see how pretty you looked when he was making you feel good.

He moved his leg, effectively straddling you, and you let out a whimper of discontent, disappointed by the sudden loss of friction when you had been so close to what you needed.

“I know, baby,” his voice was cloying, clearly finding your whines enticing in a twisted sort of way; call it sadistic, but he didn’t want you putting in any work—he wanted to be in charge of all your pleasure. “I’ll let you finish, I promise,” he licked a stripe up your neck. “Tell me what you need.”

“Want your mouth,” you were quick to answer.

“Ask nicely.”

“Please, I want your mouth on me Damien—please.”

“You want my mouth?” He nipped at your jawline, “Want me to fuck you with my tongue?”

You nodded, entranced by how devious he looked, pupils blown out, swallowing the moon’s reflection, silver hair messy from being pulled on and falling over his eyes, skin flushed pink; you were absolutely overcome with need watching him at his most primal.

He moved further down your body, situating himself between your legs and tucking his fingers beneath the waistband of your pajamas; you lifted your hips when he began to pull the fabric off of you, slowly, and you tried in vain to push your pants off faster.

“Uh-uh,” he moved his hands to cover yours, “be patient.”

You removed your hands from the flannel waistband, placing them over your chest and trying to crane your neck to watch him. It felt like an eternity before he finally let the fabric pool around your ankles, sliding them off with help from you kicking gently against the air. If ever there was a time to be thankful that you didn’t sleep in underwear, it would be now.

Moving back towards your core, he pulled your legs over his shoulders, still concentrated on making you comfortable even while most of his focus was on your naked cunt.

“Do you always get wet this quickly?” He let you hook your knee behind his head, looking up at you from between your legs.

“Shut up,” you felt suddenly embarrassed, as if it was only now, with his breath fanning your spread legs, that he had become suspicious of your attraction to him.

“That’s a no, then?” He smirked and your embarrassment dissipated when you saw the prideful smile.

Damien’s eyes shifted then from your face to your inner thigh, turning his head to suck marks on it just as he had on your neckline. He bit into the supple flesh, just hard enough to leave an outline of his teeth, before kissing bruises onto the same spots. You let out a contented sigh, and he squeezed your other thigh before turning his head again to repeat the process on that side. Licking stripes up your legs and into the joint of your thigh, he stopped short of where you wanted him, letting out a hum every time you exhaled in frustration at the lack of attention your cunt was getting.

He liked riling you up, seeing your brow furrow and your cheeks redden in frustration at not getting what you had asked for.

He relented when you started whispering pleas of his name, hand buried in his hair and pulling gently at the roots for him to use his mouth on you like he had said he would. You gasped at the contact of his tongue on your clit, the way he flattened the muscle to slide over you before moving it in slow circles over your bud. His fingers dug bruises into your thighs, holding them over his shoulders and pulling you closer to him when he finally started licking circles around your hole.

“Fuck—fuck!” you couldn’t get another word out, too focused on the way he dove into you and lapped up your slick. He was messy but masterful, letting your juices and his spit trail down over the curve of your ass while making your back arch off the mattress, hand still in his hair and unsure of whether you wanted to push him down further or pull him off due to the overwhelming sensation.

The sounds were pornographic, wet and filthy, and when you pulled harder on his hair he let out a low growl that displayed his pleasure while heightening your own.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he groaned into you, spitting onto your dripping cunt before indulging once more in your taste. You became aware of the way his hips ground into the mattress with every flick of his tongue and every mewl you let out. “Cum for me like this, baby, can you do that? Let me taste it?”

You threw your head back at his words, pressure building in your stomach at the way he clearly got so much enjoyment from making you feel good, paired with the way his teeth grazed your clit, sucking on you until you saw stars and then pulling away to do it again. One of his hands fell from your leg, and he brought it to your cunt, spitting once before pushing two fingers in. You squirmed, moaning, as he curled them towards him and fluttered them over the spongy spot inside of you. He dragged his tongue over your clit one more time, and you were catapulted over the edge, dizzy with lust, pleasure coursing through you like an electric current.

Damien moved back up the bed, hugging you to him while you trembled with the aftershocks of your orgasm, muttering words of praise.

“Did so fucking good,” he kissed the top of your head, “Such a good girl—was that ok? Are you alright?” His thumb ran over your cheek, and he dipped his head down to leave kisses in its wake.

You let out a shaky breath, adjusting your position to throw your leg over his side before wrapping your arms around him to pull him down for a kiss.

“So good.” You muttered, tasting yourself on his lips. You rolled your hips against his lazily, reaching down to trail your hand over his evident bulge. “More.”

“Yeah?” He groaned, taking in the way your hand felt on his clothed cock.

“Please.” You looked up at him through your lashes.

He reconnected his lips to yours, moving slowly and swallowing your sounds.

“You want me like this?” He whispered, hands sweeping over your body, “Gonna let me fuck you into the mattress?”

Your hips bucked on their own accord, and you nodded feverishly. He sat up, pulling you up after him, and reached under the hem of your shirt to help you remove it. He got distracted by the sight of your chest, the swell of your breasts and the way you looked at him expectantly.

“You’re so pretty,” he almost laughed, absolutely delighted by you, as he leaned down to suck a bruise on the valley between your breasts. He nipped at the pillowy skin, teeth skimming your nipple when he took it into his mouth, barely putting pressure on it until your hand flew to his hair in a gesture to make him continue, to give you more. You whimpered, sitting on your knees with his face pressed against your chest.

He stood up, removing his shirt quickly before untying the cord of his pants.

“There’s really nothing sexier than a man in pajama bottoms,” he made a face as he fumbled with the knot of the string, finally undoing it with a sharp tug.

“I’d have to agree.” You shot him a smug look and he shook his head, smiling. He situated himself back on the mattress, pushing you onto your back and kissing your neck. You let out a quiet yelp when you landed on the pillows, laughing softly. You still felt dizzy, the entire situation leaving you completely shocked but admittedly thrilled, and when you saw him looking down at you, you felt words leave your mouth before you could filter them.

“I’ve wanted this for a really long time.”

Damien smiled again, kissing your forehead before dipping down to trail kisses over your jaw. “Me too.”

“So, uh,” You let your hand wander down his body, stopping at the base of his cock and teasing your fingers around it, “You gonna fuck me into the mattress now?”

He grabbed your hand, and in a parallel to the situation that got you here, pinned it above your head.

“Is that what you want?” His pupils swallowed his irises, giving him the appearance of someone completely lost in desire. It made you greedy for more.

“Yeah.” You breathed.

“Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“No. The whole thing. Say it.”

“I want…” You felt dirty saying it out loud, and that was half the appeal, “I want you to fuck me into the mattress.”

“That’s right. You gonna beg for it?”

You liked him like this, so cocky and domineering. It made you feel breathless, head swimming with what was to come. Dominance looked good on him.

“Please, Damien,” you swallowed, squirming slightly in anticipation.

“C’mon, you can do better than that.” He practically scoffed, “Beg.”

“Fuck me, please,” you felt yourself growing frustrated, and you could feel your heart beating in your cunt. “I was so good—I’ve been so good, please, I’ll take what you give me I promise just—please, please fuck me.”

The hand that wasn’t wrapped around your wrist fisted his cock, and you tilted your head to watch him stroke himself while he lined up with your entrance. You whined, hoping that maybe it would make him move faster.

“What did I say about being patient?” He chided, and your head fell back onto the pillows.

“Please, Damien.” You couldn’t have hidden your eagerness if you tried.

“One more time.” You felt the tip of his cock between your folds, collecting your slick and nudging your entrance.

“Please—yes!” You gasped when he pushed his hips forward, eyes rolling back slightly at the way he filled you completely in one stroke.

“Good girl.” He grabbed your other hand, now pinning both your wrists down over your head, giving him a full view of your body underneath him. “You feel good? Worth the wait?”

You nodded your head, mouth open and eyes wide, mesmerized by the stretch and the feeling of him seated deep inside of you.

“Tell me—use your words,” His own patience was wearing thin, and you could tell he was waiting for the opportunity to fuck you the way he wanted to.

“Feels so good, Damien,” you nodded again, “Move—fuck me, please.”

He exhaled, content with your answer and subsequent request. He drew his hips back far enough to nearly pull out of you, before slamming back against you and bottoming out completely. You let out a moan, and his free hand covered your mouth.

“Gotta be quiet, baby” he whispered.

You nodded underneath his hand, remembering all the other people in the house, and he pulled it away from your mouth before pushing two fingers through your lips.

“That’ll keep you busy, right?” He smiled and you moaned softly around his fingers, tongue circling them behind your lips.

Damien copied his initial sharp thrust, pushing into you with enough force to move you up the bed repeatedly, watching the way your breasts bounced with the movement. Letting go of your hands briefly, he brought one of your legs up to his shoulders, deepening the position, and you whimpered around the fingers in your mouth.

“God, you’re fucking perfect. Sound so pretty, baby” he groaned, grinding his hips against you to get a feel for how deep he was inside of you, “So pretty letting me fuck you like this.”

He took his fingers from your mouth, toying with your nipples and using the residual spit to lubricate his movements. His other hand left your wrists, focused now on holding himself above you while he drove in and out of you.

You squirmed under him, overstimulated and needy, and your newly freed hands grabbed at whatever they could hold onto; one gripping his arm, nails leaving crescents in his skin, while the other fisted the sheets, and Damien took note of the way your face contorted when his thrusts became rougher.

“You like that?” His voice was as kind as it usually was, but with an edge to it now, driving into you hard. “That feel good, baby?”

Your moans were increasingly high-pitched, and all you could offer was a jumble of reassuring whines. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, lips meeting for a feverish, passionate kiss. He bit your bottom lip, keeping it between his teeth and tugging at it, before letting his tongue push forward into your mouth.

You moaned into him, his cock pushing against your most sensitive spot. You arched your back, silently begging for more, and he followed your unspoken instructions, fingers finding your clit between your bodies and kneading tight circles over it.

You let out a ragged cry of his name, cunt squeezing around him as you came; he pulled you into him, arm wrapping under your body, to kiss you fervidly, groaning at how you felt clenching so tightly around him.

“That’s right, baby, cum for me,” he fucked you through your high; long, deep strokes at a much slower pace bringing you back down to earth, “Good fucking girl.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, drowsy and overstimulated, happy to be enveloped by him.

“Where do you want me, baby?” His thrusts picking back up slightly, eager for his own release.

“Anywhere you want,” you kissed up the side of his neck, whining at the feel of his cock as he dragged his hips back before sinking back into you, “Wanna make you cum, please.” You rubbed your cheek against his, the friction from his short stubble soothing you.

“You want me to cum for you?” Even now, he kept teasing, “My good girl wants me to cum for her? So fucking greedy.”

You whined, wordlessly, trying to move your hips to match his thrusts, intent on pleasing him the way he had you.

“Spit,” he offered you his hand, and you licked his palm before spitting into it.

He squeezed you tight, using the arm still underneath you to lift you up slightly and get a few last thrusts in as deep as he could manage. Upon pulling out, he fucked his fist with the hand you had prepared for him, spilling over your cunt. You whimpered at the feeling, and the thought of his cum mingling with your own between your legs.

Breathing heavy and uneven, Damien took a moment to collect himself. He leaned over the side of the bed, finding his discarded shirt and grabbing it; he wiped between your legs, careful to go slow and gentle over your more sensitive spots. He threw the shirt back over the side of the bed when he deemed you properly cleaned up.

“Thank you,” you spoke up, nuzzling into his side.

He hummed, kissing your head and moving stray hairs from your face. “Was that…it wasn’t too much, was it?”

“Damien,” you looked up at him incredulously, “It was perfect.”

“Not too rough?”

“The perfect amount of rough.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Did you mean what you said?”

“That I wanted to make you cum?”

“Well—mm. Kinda gathered that that was the truth. No, I mean, when you said you’ve wanted this…for a while.”

“Of course I meant it.” You fidgeted with the fingers he had draped around your shoulder. “Did you mean it when you—”

“Yeah.” He cut you off.

“You didn’t know what I was going to ask.”

“What were you going to ask?” He quipped.

“Now I’m not telling you.” You rolled your eyes, playfully turning away from him. Damien used the hand he had on your shoulder as leverage to pull you back against him, and you landed against his chest.

“Did I mean it when I said I wanted this, too?” He finished your question for you, “Yeah. I meant it. One hundred percent, I did.” He pressed his cheek against the crown of your head, “Was worried that wanting more was a, I dunno, like a…thought it would make you uncomfortable. So, I just—not that I don’t like being your friend—but I tried to behave myself. Y’know? Even though...” His gaze flicked over your face, "I always wanted more."

“Is this where you tell me that you orchestrated this whole thing by turning down the heat in here?” You joked, tired and satisfied and so utterly content that he, too, wanted more than the friendship you had cultivated with one another—thrilled that you had been on the same page all along; the initial paranoia over the implications of being attracted to the other, and now basking in the relief that your affection was mutual.

“I’m flattered that you think I have that kind of forethought. But no,” he laughed. “Just got lucky.”

“In so many respects.” You giggled, listening to his heartbeat against your cheek.

“Thanks for letting me stay.” He held you tighter, as if a loose grip would cause you to slip away from him.

“Thanks for staying.”

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msbigredmachine · 1 year ago

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Checkmate - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

The new Smackdown GM reminds the Tribal Chief who’s boss, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the highly entertaining WrestleMania 40 Press Conference.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: Smut

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Answer your fuckin phone.

She's been expecting his text message, to add to the half-dozen missed calls he's already deluged her phone with. His WrestleMania plans were thrown into disarray tonight and for some reason he thinks she has something to do with it.

Too bad she doesn't give a fuck what he thinks.

I'm calling you one more time. You better pick up.

So bossy. Always has been. But he knows damn well who the boss really is. When her phone springs to life again with his beautiful face snarling at her through the screen, she rolls onto her back with a heavy sigh, smooths down her oversized t-shirt and presses the green button, waiting to hear his deep voice on the other end of the line.

"What the fuck, Joy!"

Damn. Even when he's pissed, he sounds sexy as hell; it's the same menacing timbre he adopts when he's folding her up and turning her out. The memory makes her hot between her thighs.

"Reigns." Her voice is calm and steady despite the thumps of her heart, calling out to him even when she doesn't want it to.

"Why was Cody there tonight? Hmm?" he demands, his temper simmering beneath his words. "I coulda sworn he agreed to step aside for Dwayne. Why he change his mind? Did you have something to do with it? What'chu say to him, huh?"

She extends her left hand to inspect her ombre-colored acrylic nails. "Calm your tits. I don't control Cody's actions, I'm Smackdown's GM, not Raw's. He won the Rumble and he has the right to choose who he wants."

"Don't patronize me, Joy! Rock and I were a done deal!"

"You sound tense, Reigns. Paranoid, even," she smirks, "Worried you can't beat the American Nightmare a second time? Besides, you heard the fans...they wanna see you and him-"

"Bullshit!" he cuts her off. "This wasn't about no fans. You wanted this and I know why. You saw the pictures of me and Venita over Christmas and you been in your feelings ever since."

It's a predictable, childish response, and though there's some truth to it, she dismisses its immature delivery. "What you do with your bitch is your business. You are marrying her, after all," she says coolly, hearing him bristle at the other end.

"See? We ain't had a civil conversation since those photos got out. I know exactly how you feel about her, so tell me I'm lying."

"Don't ever question my ability to separate business from pleasure. You are walking proof of that," Joy warns him. "My problem is with you questioning my authority, with your silly little threats and your temper tantrums. You did it leading up to the Rumble and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. In case you forgot, I run Smackdown now. You work for me. The Mania match is scheduled, so your ass better show up in Philly, you understand me?"

A long, tense moment crawls by.

"Are you done?" he says, sounding bored.

"No. Whatchu gon' do about it?" Joy challenges.

"You looked hot as fuck in that dress tonight."

She rolls her eyes. Of course he deflects. But it's not going to work this time. She wants him to feel as frustrated as she has been over the last couple of months. "Ain't your fiancée over there with you?" she retorts, her tone clipped and snarky.

"She's in the Hamptons. And even if she was here, that ain't never stopped us anyways," he calls her out.

"Whatever." As flippant as she's tried to be about it, she is growing tired of the same old song and dance between her and Roman. She's allowed him to juggle her and Venita, and she blames herself for not leaving him alone when he chose to stay with her. Perfect, pretty little naive Venita. The IG influencer extraordinaire whose only two cares in life are her follower count and the picture-perfect aesthetics of the 'Roman & Venita' brand.

Whatever helps her sleep at night, I guess.

Joy had wondered just how perfect they really were the first time she saw the couple backstage in the Thunderdome, with Venita looking bored as hell the entire time she was there. It was clear that she had no interest in Roman's world, and Joy told him just that. Certain she would be fired on her first day for opening her big mouth, he had merely laughed and agreed, and it was then she found out she was his producer for the upcoming Bloodline saga. Onscreen, they created magic with the now legendary Tribal Chief storyline, but the magic they soon began making behind the scenes and between the sheets was even better and way too hot for TV.

She's never had time to be ashamed of inserting herself in someone else's relationship, mainly because her career has accelerated to the top of WWE's creative hierarchy. Plus, she's not about to give up such great sex, not with a stroke game that superb and a libido as high as her ambitions. Sometimes she wishes she doesn't have to share him, but she accepts that she can't have it all. After all, she already lords over the A-show as Smackdown's General Manager, meaning she is virtually unstoppable now, with money, power, and most importantly, the balls of the biggest star in the industry in the palm of her hand. Literally.

But he's pissing her off right now.

"Look, I want us to talk. Come see me." He's turned on the charm but Joy refuses to fall for it.

"What I want is an apology for your constant disrespect ever since I became GM," she replies, "I told you; I don't give a damn that we're fucking. Do not make an enemy out of me, Roman."

The Tribal Chief sighs heavily. "Look. You're right. Let me make it up to you. Come to my room so we can talk things out."

"No. You just want pussy."

"That too," he snickers.

Joy bites her lip as she idly circles her middle and ring finger over her pussy lips. She had no prior plans to touch herself, but listening to his deep, haughty voice has sparked a throbbing between her thighs that needs urgent attention. "Right. Well, I don't feel like leaving my room. This bed is way too comfy," she emphasizes.

"Mine is comfier. Are you alone?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Woman, you better not be givin' my pussy to nobody else," he growls, making her laugh.

"You're hilarious. My pussy is mine and mine alone, no matter how good you beat it and eat it," she reminds him, her smile widening as she hears him taking deep breaths, trying to compose himself.

"I see that you get off on testing my patience. Does that turn you on, baby girl? Hmm? Does it make that pussy wet? I bet you wet right now." His voice drops an entire octave at that last part, and she bites her lip to keep from moaning when her slick honey pools around her fingers.

"I might be," she gasps.

"Then bring your ass over here and let me take care of it."

Joy huffs, determined to resist him for as long as she can. "I can take care of myself, Reigns. Matter of fact, I'm doing just that as we speak..."

"Aww, babe, don't be touchin' on my pussy without me," he grumbles. His frustration makes her grin in triumph. She holds all the cards and she's enjoying listening to him squirm.

"I wanna see you, beautiful. We ain't been together in so long. I miss you," Roman continues.

"Is that right?"

"Uh huh. Don't you miss me, Joy? Don't you miss this dick? It definitely misses you. Listen..."

The slippery, sticky sound that follows his words is unmistakable, and her heart pounds in her chest at his soft groan. The image of him lying in his bed, probably naked, jerking off to her, makes her stomach flip and her pussy spasm beneath her fingers. The tension crackles over the phone, simmering with the same intensity as though he were right there in person.

"Hear that, baby? That's how bad I need you. Come over." His silky-smooth whisper finally loosens the last thread of control she has held onto tightly up to this point. She knows that ultimately, she won't deny him...she never does because she can't, and he knows that.

"Gimme ten minutes," she relents.

"Make it five."

"I said, ten. Text me your room number." Cutting the call before he can respond, she leaves her bed and searches for a couple of accessories to wear. After a quick check in the mirror, she picks up her phone and sees he's already sent her his room number. The thought of what is about to transpire hastens her flight out of the room, the dead of night no match for her rapidly burning need for him. She has since accepted that she will always need him, too.

His door swings open seconds after she knocks, and a surprised yelp escapes her when he yanks her inside and tugs her flush against him. He is barefoot, in gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, and shirtless to show off the majesty of his massive, inked chest. Joy meets his loaded stare head-on as he drinks in her own appearance. She is in one of his old Nike hoodies that she swiped from him and never gave back, with the open zipper in the middle showing the swell of her breasts underneath. Long pastel-pink stockings run up to her brown thighs with gray Crocs on her feet. As his eyes crawl hungrily up and down her frame, her body thrums with realization at just how hard he is, his sizable erection poking her lower belly. Despite their back-and-forth, it's no mistake that she intoxicates him, and that power thrills her.

"Like what you see, champ?" she asks, staring him down for his response.

Roman's moan is ragged as he clamps his huge paw around her throat and covers her mouth with his, and she instantly melts in his arms, her nerves alight from his touch. She is swept up in the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his taste that contrasts erotically with his aggressiveness and the eager, hungry flicking of their tongues as the kiss heats up. He feels wonderfully warm and smells incredible like he always does.

Reluctantly, his mouth retreats from hers and he tucks his face in the hollow of her neck. He nuzzles his cheek against her skin and inhales the fragrance he's missed so much, her hushed moan caressing the depths of his senses.

"You a vindictive little bitch, you know that?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her throat.

"Only when I wanna be," she hums, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You musta loved watching me lose my cool tonight," he adds, "I saw the look in your eyes on that stage when I got into it with those two bums. That shit turned you on. Your nipples were hard through your dress. And I'm sure that pussy was soaked."

Truth be told, seeing his cool calm composure collapse, with his long hair flying and cocky countenance as he talked shit to Cody and Seth, made her so wet she had to run into a restroom stall to take off her panties, forcing her to go commando for the rest of the night. She'll never admit it though; she never likes to give him the upper hand. "How do you know?" she challenges.

"Cuz I know you. I know everything about your body, sweetheart," Roman brags, "I know what you like, and I know you love testing me cuz it makes me wanna fuck the attitude outta you."

"So what are you waiting for?" She licks her glossy lips, full and pouting, goading him with her bedroom eyes. But the Tribal Chief can feel her body trembling, betraying her bravado. This time he has the upper hand and he plans to exploit it.

He pulls her hoodie over her head and his eyes immediately drop to the thin beaded belly chain adorning her slender waist, accentuating her delicious curves. Desire gleams in his brown irises at the sight of her bare breasts, the fleshy mounds popping out at him, her nipples hard and aching for his touch. "Fuck, you're sexy," he murmurs. He massages each one then leans down to lick and suck on them, his tongue and hands working together to pleasure her.

"Ooh, that feels good," she moans, placing her hair behind her ear to get a good look at him feasting on her nipples. Ever the multitasker, he grabs her white lace thong at the hem, yanking impatiently until it rips from her body. Joy bursts out laughing at his savagery. "I knew you was gon' fuck up my panties," she jokes.

"I replace 'em, don't I?" He abandons her breasts and kisses her again, this time sliding both hands down to her round backside and lifting her up to press her against the wall. The friction of their bare chests pressed together, nipples grazing, her legs wrapping around his waist and bringing them even closer, builds the desire. He grinds his throbbing hardness against the open heat between her thighs, and she gets him back by reaching inside his sweatpants and grabbing his dick, stroking the turgid flesh as it jumps in her grasp. "Mmm, baby you're so hard. Put it in me," she orders.

"Not yet," he cuts her off, his huge biceps flexing as he carries her across the lavish suite. "Come over here, you little slut. Come suck my dick in front of this great view of the Strip."

Next to the expansive window is an L-shaped sofa large enough for a good trip to Pound Town. As he takes off his pants, Joy can't stop herself from drooling at his towering form. Six foot three, bronzed Adonis with chocolate eyes, luscious hair, massive and muscled and all man, with a long, hefty cock pulsing between those powerful thighs. He looks like a demigod in all his glory, and she venerates at the altar of his beauty.

Roman settles himself at the other end of the sofa and eyes her down with a smug smirk. Tucking his hands behind his head, he spreads his legs. "Crawl to me," he commands, his smirk widening when she advances towards him on all fours. Joy is a work of art, with nicely sized titties, round hips, thick, mouth-watering thighs and ass and that fat pussy he dreams about at least once a day. Every part of her is real and silky soft to the touch. It's been years since he first tasted her, and he is still drunk off it. She is a potent drug he can't wean himself off of, and frankly, he doesn't want to. He loves Venita, but for all her prowess in bed, she does not possess a fraction of the wild thrill that encapsulates the woman before him. He wants Joy, needs her like he needs to breathe, and he always will. He will seek his fiancée's forgiveness when that day comes.

Joy slowly slithers up the length of his body, ignoring his erection for now as she straddles him and plants a long, wet kiss on his mouth, the sound of their lips meeting and parting filling the suite. Her hands caress the tight muscles of his body, having memorized all the spots that make his breath quicken and his pulse spike. He puts his hands on her hips, but she seizes them and pins them above his head without breaking stride, laughing when he moans out with frustration. She catches his tongue as it slides into her mouth, and she proceeds to suck on it, her head bobbing like she is sucking his dick. Saliva quickly gathers around their joined mouths as she feasts on only his tongue. It's the messiest, sloppiest, hottest kiss they've ever shared, and the tension is reaching fever pitch as a result.

"You want me to suck your dick like this, baby?" Joy asks. When Roman nods, she tugs his lower lip between her teeth. "Say it," she orders, her fingers digging into his wrists. Her hips are rolling too, moving in a seductive, serpentine dance that short circuits every fiber of his being. He can't move even if he wants to; his senses are pinned down to the bed along with his body. The Tribal Chief is helpless, forced to endure the sweetest agony, with the head of his dick grazing her wet slit and driving him insane. An uncharacteristic whimper deserts his lips as his blood pumps with agitation.

"Yes," he responds breathlessly.

"What's the magic word?" Joy presses. The mocking smirk gracing her pretty features should infuriate him, but it only arouses him instead.

"Please," he concedes, knowing full well that she will drag out the torture until he succumbs. With a triumphant smile and one more intoxicating kiss, she finally takes pity on him and makes the descent down his heaving body, soothing his butterscotch skin with soft kisses. As she nears his groin, his eyes squeeze shut, and he takes deep breaths to remain focused.

"You think you're in control, toying with two women's lives." Joy shakes her head. "Hell no. I'm in control, Roman. I own you. You're mine to do with however I want. And you know the best part?"

She closes her mouth over the tip of him, giving it a gentle suckle before driving home her point. "Deep down, you love that shit."

Roman merely grins. The power has shifted back in his possession and she doesn't even know it. He shows her when he strikes with lightning speed, grabbing her and twisting her around so her legs are on either side of his head. Stunned, Joy grabs his thighs to steady herself, as he's already grabbing handfuls of her ass while using his tongue to part her lower lips. Her body jerks from the warm fat wetness of his tongue lashing around her sensitive crevices, softening her up with his saliva. Heady with desire, she just lays there with his dick in her hand, too overwhelmed to do anything else but moan with pleasure.

A sudden, stinging smack on her left ass cheek jolts her back to earth.

"You gon' suck me off or what?" Roman demands impatiently before refocusing on his own task.

Regaining her senses, her mouth engulfs his length, her head bobbing with her wrist twisting around the base. She cups his balls and rolls them in her other hand, making him groan wantonly. Her mouth is warm and her pouty lips are tight around him, sliding up and down with her tongue trailing saliva along his hard flesh. He retaliates by spreading her pussy open and holding her down on him, sucking and licking her folds with rapid strokes and enjoying her sexy throaty sounds that mingle with the sloppy slurps of his mouth on her. The increased pressure on her sensitive pussy has her moaning and squirming against his face, which in turn floods his tongue with her taste. His appreciative groans while licking her in rhythm with her rolling hips sends shivers down her spine.

Mustering all the strength she possesses, Joy frees herself from his clutches and crawls back down his body, her juices smearing a slick trail along his torso as she guides his length inside her with impressive quickness. She moans out loud as he fills her, her head tipping forwards as his big palms paw at the supple flesh of her backside. Roman groans at the wetness that welcomes his dick as it disappears into the warm canal of her pussy. "Yeah, fuck me good, baby girl," he growls, slapping her ass in encouragement.

Holding onto his ankles, she rocks up and down his erection, winding her hips with each drop down to take him as deep as she can. His husky moans and his tight grip on her waist empower her. Joy seizes every chance she can to turn him into putty in her hands. Because the motherfucker never likes to relinquish control, always determined to break her down into submission; whether it's with his God-gifted tongue, or his huge hands choking her, or with that big ol' dick, fucking her against the wall of her office, bending her over the table in his locker room at TV, or making her ride him in the bowels of his private jet. It's fun taking control from him and showing him who's boss, on the job and especially outside of it.

"You love it when I ride this big dick dontcha? Got you deep in this pussy just the way you like it," she purrs haughtily, upping the ante by reaching down to grip his cock.

The Tribal Chief realizes she's on demon time to be stroking his dick while riding him. She looks so sexy on top of him, in them pretty waist beads and stockings. Her thick hips roll back lavishly, her even thicker ass presses down on his pelvis, grinding and twisting and nudging him all the way up in her creamy pussy. Damn. He loves the way she fucks him. Baby girl has mad skills and a juicy pussy, and he is glad to be the one she uses them on. "Go faster, baby. Bounce on my dick," he cajoles, massaging her ass cheeks and groaning softly when she obeys, "Uh-huh, just like that, babe, unnnh..."

She can almost see the look of pleasure on his face. She can definitely hear him as he tugs at the soft flesh of her butt, lost to the depths of her warm wetness, in the erotic sounds of their sex noises and their slapping skin filling the big room as she bounces on his dick. Another moan escapes her, her head tilting back as he angles his hips to make his dick reach that oh-so-sweet spot inside her. He smacks her ass again, earning yet another whimper from her lips as her juices trickle down his length down to his balls. Her thighs are starting to burn from her efforts, but she can't stop, not when she's so close...

"Uhhhn baby, I'm comin'," she gasps, leaning back to rest her hands on his chest as she gyrates her ass on him. Roman's breathing is as heavy as hers, his fingers digging into her hips to steer her movements. The sensations are overwhelming as her walls contract around him, her pussy moistening as she leans forward again and rides him even harder. Seconds later, a flooding orgasm bursts inside her with such power that it wracks her entire body with tremors. Through the thick fog of numbing pleasure, she hears Roman's surprised grunt as her cum leaks all over his groin area.

"Damn baby, you nuttin' all over me. I knew you been needin' this dick," he taunts her.

Truth be told, she wasn't expecting to come this hard, but fuck it always feels so good when she does. "Oh my god," her voice trembles, her hand clutching the headrest to keep from collapsing in a heap.

Roman spanks her again. "I ain't tell you to stop. Keep goin'..."

"Hol' up, you got me shakin' so much," Joy groans, her thighs still quivering. He is still deep inside her, his dick throbbing impatiently inside the warmth of her tight walls.

"If I take this shit over, you won't be able to walk in the morning, that's a promise," he threatens.

"Then quit talkin' and do that shit," she bites back, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"A'ight then." He pulls her backwards on top of him, with her back to his chest. He grabs her legs and holds her up by her knees, thrusting upwards into her, reveling in her surprised yelp that quickly dissolves into loud moans. This new position feels so good that she's whining and making noises that only seem to turn him on as he strokes in and out of her pussy from underneath, making her body react and remind her exactly why she's not leaving his trifling ass anytime soon.

"Uhnnn yes, Roman, fuck me," she whimpers over and over, her mind spiraling, her eyes rolling back. He is relentless, pulling her legs further back and pounding her faster, sparking another intense orgasm. She squirts so hard that she's left dizzy and boneless, causing her to slip off his sweat-slick body, a shivering crumpled mess. She curls up into a fetal position and gives in to the intense euphoria of her release. With a proud snicker, the Tribal Chief caresses all over her body, then rolls her onto her stomach, spreading her thighs to observe the damage he's inflicted on her pussy.

"We ain't finished," he informs her, tapping his hard, slickened dick against her soaked, puffy folds. She tenses and arches her back on instinct, anticipating his invasion. He smiles behind her, grabs her hips, and drags her limp body up and onto his hard, waiting dick. The moans they exhale together is a symphony that serenades the pair as he continues his hard, deep thrusts. With her hips in the air and her backside in his calloused palms, she is at his mercy yet again, and her vision swims at the feeling of him practically in her spine. She knows just how deep that big ass dick of his can get inside her, but it never fails to wipe her mind blank when it does.

"Oh, fuck," she mumbles into the couch, her face sinking further in it as he drills into her hard and rough. It hurts so good that it's quite literally taking her breath away. "Shit, fuck Roman, wait, wait," she pleads, reaching behind to push his thigh and forcing him to halt his movements.

"Too much?" he asks, laughing as he presses gentle kisses along her spine, feeling her body shiver from the contact. "That's what you get when your pussy is so good. You was talkin' all that shit earlier, best believe I ain't lettin' up, baby girl. Who owns who now, huh," he says, swatting her ass and starting again.

"You're a cocky asshole," she moans shakily, defiance swirling in her lust-filled gaze.

Roman's smirk is diabolical and panty-wetting. "And don't you forget it. Now shut up and take this dick."

Joy winces as his hand curves around her throat, the other clutching her lower hip as he fucks her prone body into the sofa. She clings to the cushions and her sanity with everything she has, tears filling her eyes as he pummels her with hurried, lethal thrusts, making her ass jiggle and her pussy drip some more as she's dragged dangerously close to the precipice. He pushes the arch out of her back and flips her around, sliding right back inside before she can regain her bearings and dropping his body weight on her. His intoxicating cologne surrounds her as their mouths crush together in a hungry, toe-curling kiss. Incoherent moans leave them both as he rolls his hips against hers, nestling his dick right there, eking a sob out of her as she falls apart again.

"Aww, f-f-fuuuck..."

"I know baby, I know it feels so good," He kisses away her tears and then her cheek, his fingers curling over her breast in a light squeeze which in turn squeezes her walls around his pounding thrusts. "Mmm, this pussy so tight and wet. Keep comin' for me, baby, gimme all that nut."

His sultry command sends another wave of pleasure crashing into her like one of his trademark Spears, and her jaw drops from the force of her orgasm, her pussy clenching painfully around his dick. Her pitiful moans that she struggles to muffle against his tattooed shoulder are music to the Tribal Chief's ears as his own body is moments away from the same fate.

"Shit," he groans gruffly, shuddering breaths tearing from his lungs as his balls tighten and his strokes become sloppier, heavier, "Fuck, I'm boutta buss..."

Joy lifts her left leg up and rests it on his shoulder, digging her other heel in his lower back to pull him in deeper and finally take him down. She runs her hands all over his sides, his back, his ass, her moans mingling with his as his hips snap harder and faster. Their foreheads touch, and a devilish smile forms on her face at the helplessness in his glazed eyes, licking his lips in between throaty gasps of pleasure. She has him right where she wants him. "There you go baby, pound that fuckin' pussy, fill it up," she coaxes.

"Unhhh, shit," Roman's whines disintegrate into a whimpering cry as his big body trembles viscerally against her own. Joy's toes curl as he lodges his dick all the way inside her, making her feel each throbbing spurt of his warm seed spilling generously in her pussy. She never minds him coming inside her; her IUD is always in place, mainly for his benefit and hers. His deep, sexy grunts as he rides out his nut with stuttered ruts of his hips wash over her, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed for him.

Kissing her leg and letting it down, Roman finally pulls his dick out with a hiss and strokes out the rest of his cum onto her softened, battered pussy lips. Joy stares dazedly at the ceiling, her body humming from the last vestiges of her orgasm and a touch of pain. She feels his big arms slide around her waist and draw her in so their lips meet, savoring their collective taste with their tongues as they bask in the afterglow. He takes her arms and winds them around his neck before picking her up, transferring her from the sofa to the king-sized bed a couple of feet away. He lays her carefully on the bed and sits at the edge, watching her snuggle against the soft sheets and pillows with a satisfied sigh. The outdoor lights peeking through the window cast a glittery shadow over her nude body, making her look even more beautiful. And speaking of beautiful...

"I got you something," he announces, taking a small gift box labeled Van Cleef & Arpels sat on the nightstand and handing it to her.

"What's this?" she questions, slowly sitting up.

"Just a lil' sumn I thought you'd like," he simply shrugs. "Open it."

Eyeing him suspiciously, she unties the ribbon at the top of the box and removes the lid. Nestled in navy-blue velvet are an eighteen-carat yellow-gold Alhambra bracelet and matching earrings. She wishes she disliked the warmth that blooms inside her at the sweet gesture. She meets his eyes, noting his cocked eyebrow and cocky smirk as he gauges her reaction.

"This a good enough apology for you?" he asks.

Joy smiles gratefully and kisses his lips. "They're beautiful. But I keep telling you, you don't have to buy me anything," she says.

"Well, I want to. Sue me." He goes quiet for a few seconds, contemplating his next words. "You got tickets to the SuperBowl, right? Let's go together. We can hang out in my skybox."

"And have people talk about us? We got reputations to uphold. And what about Venita?"

"She'll be there. She's still clueless about us. And I told you, ain't nobody gon' say shit. Between your lawyer and mine, all them NDAs are water-tight." When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "I just miss spending time with you. I miss when we weren't at each other's throats like we are these days."

"That's only cuz you make my job harder, Reigns," she points out, scooting over when he rolls into the bed and sits up against the headboard next to her.

"And you, mine. But despite all of that, I would do anything for you. You know that, right? That's why I agreed to that damn match. For you," he adds, biting his lip as he caresses her chin and gazes tenderly at her. Joy feels her heart flutter as his chocolate-colored eyes gleam with that familiar, intense passion that the two of them have been sharing for almost four years now...

"You're so cute when you get all soft and sweet on me, champ," she smiles, leaning in for another kiss that lingers pleasantly this time. It's little moments like these that try to con her, even to this day, that their affair has veered towards the romantic side. She thanks the cynical businesswoman in her for swiftly kicking that childish notion to the curb every time the delusion attempts to rear its ugly head.

Their embrace is interrupted by the grating sound of his phone vibrating, forcing him to pull away from her with a tired sigh. On the nightstand, a text message with Venita's name lights up his phone screen.

Countin the minutes till I touch down in Vegas 🥺😍 Can't wait to see you again! Love you Baby Boo 😘

"Aww, poor baby," Joy's giggle is dark and mocking as she looks over Roman's shoulder. Snatching the phone out of his hand, she opens up the message and begins typing.

"Don't start no shit, now," he sighs, but makes no move to stop whatever havoc she's causing through his device.

"Relax, Baby Boo," she teases, pressing Send and holding his phone up to his face to show him her response.

I'm waiting for you babe. Can't wait to see you 😍 Love you sm.

"See? I was nice," she says, putting away his phone and climbing on top of his big body.

Roman rolls his eyes and runs his hands along her thighs. "I guess I should thank you, then?"

"Oh, no need to thank me. I'm just being a good, caring boss," she replies, bending to kiss his lips, trailing her tongue along his bearded jawline and tasting her dried juices. "You're my star employee, so it's important that I always give you what you need. And I always give it to you, don't I?"

Roman groans into her mouth as she kisses him harder, her dainty fingers stroking his dick which immediately pulses in her grasp as though it hasn't been touched all day. "Yeah, you do," he rasps, his body heating up as she starts to descend on him. "Oh shit, baby, you feelin' generous tonight..."

"Mmm, more like selfish..." She sits all the way down with a gasp, making both their hearts race with each twitch of his cock inside her. "Cuz I want that dick again, and I'm taking it..."

She is already moving, hunched over him, her titties in his face, sucking them both back into that sensual place of pleasure they like to visit together. He answers to her, in more ways than one, and he won't have it any other way. "Anything you want, boss. Anything you want," the Tribal Chief croaks out, allowing himself to sit back and enjoy the ride, quite literally.

THE END

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serawritesthings · 2 years ago

Text

CRAVE THE ROSE

summary: you were Arthur’s own slice of heaven in a world where it felt like everything he did brought him a step further to hell. pairing: arthur morgan x fem! reader tags: content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex word count: 6.1k

a/n: hello, lovelies! I'm finally done with my first fic; I hope it's worth a read. Please let me know what you think; I would much appreciate it!♡

Most nights at Horseshoe Overlook were quiet, ignoring Uncle's snoring and the girl’s quiet gossiping. Often, you joined them, finding their conversations amusing. You discovered that Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen had a wild imagination and a wilder sense of humor.

Unfortunately, they decided you would be the object of their gossip lately. More so, you and Arthur. Your relationship appeared to be very interesting to them, and they weren’t shy of making it known as they teased you for the man’s apparent infatuation with you.

Because of that, you remain behind a tree by the horses, mulling. You had no interest in speaking to the girls tonight, scared they would bother you. You didn't wish to be the center of gossip instead of the one chitchatting.

Sitting alone for the first time in a while allowed your thoughts to take over. You worried for him immensly, just like you always did when it came to Arthur. It wasn’t like your concern came from nothing, finding that trouble always followed him.

More times than not, he came home bloodied and bruised, and sometimes he didn’t come home at all. It made you feel useless to only stay in camp and think of every what-if that could happen to the unpredictable man, but you couldn't help it.

There was a lingering feeling of certainty when you met Arthur. You knew you were the same - you bruise a little easier than most, though in different places. The hurt manifested somewhere far inside of him, a place where his walls were so high you weren’t sure even he could put a crack in it. But something about him wormed itself into your heart and manifested the passage that led to your deepest thoughts and feelings.

"Whatcha doin' out here, honey?" A voice strapped with roughness spoke out behind you, surprising you. You glanced at Arthur towering over you, granting him an exasperated stare, although your heart sang at the sight of him in one piece.

"I'm hiding." He raised his eyebrow, looking entertained, settling his hands on his belt.

"Now, what are you hidin' from?" A smirk appeared on his lips while he shook his head.

"The girls." A melancholy expression appeared on your face.

"Your hiding from… the girls?"

"Well, yes. It seems gossiping about us has become their favorite amusement." To speak about it made you scrunch your nose. You knew it was childish, but you were too irritated to care.

"I guess women never change, eh?" He studied you with a knowing smile while crouching down, touching your knee tenderly. You only scoffed at him.

"You gonna stay cooped up here like an angry little ball of fire all night?" He offered you his hand, snickering.

"Yes." Peering forward with sharp eyes, you avoided his hand.

Arthur chuckled as he gently placed his hand under your chin, gazing into your eyes. Your pout made him frown, and swiftly he tossed you over his shoulder and began walking.

"I ain't lettin’ you linger out here all night. " You gasped, eyes facing the ground, feeling his shoulder jab into your stomach with every step.

"Now, just what do you think you're doing?!" A screech escaped you while Arthur only laughed, giving your rear a playful slap.

"They'll see us!"

"They're drunk and asleep; calm your horse's missy."

Your eyes grew small at his comment, and you tried thinking of a way to make him release you. Lifting your hands, you grabbed the back of his pants, trying to push them down his hips. He chuckled at you and kept walking.

"Now, what do you think you're doin´?" He readjusted your squirming frame against his broad shoulder.

"It's okay, though; I like you a little feisty."

"Oh, I'll show you feisty." You continued trying to push his pants down further.

You kept bickering on the path to Arthur's tent. He was correct; there wasn’t a single person awake. You could see the smug smirk on his face when he realized he was right, but he focused on keeping his pants up, which proved futile. What a sight you two were.

He chuckled as he placed you on his bed, standing tall over your small frame. Amid your anger, now forgotten after your lighthearted bickering, you had failed to remember how much you missed him. Arthur had been away for a long time, leaving you to worry about him constantly. It made you feel useless, never knowing where or what he was doing. But he was here now, which instantly lifted your spirits.

Raising the corners of your mouth into a soft smile, you looked up at him through your lashes, grabbing his gun belt and bringing him closer to you till you felt the chilly surface of his buckle against your cheek. Putting your arms around his waist, you rested your cheek against his middle and sighed.

"Are ya done trying to pull my pants down now?" Arthur only raised his eyebrow, wondering where the feisty girl went.

"Mm." The fabric of his jeans silenced your voice as you relished in what was solely Arthur.

"I missed you so much." Your tone suddenly wavered, and you wrapped your arms tighter around him. It felt like he would disappear from you.

Feeling his coarse hand land softly on your head, he ran his fingers through your hair that was soft under his palms. Arthur wasn't good at feelings and often found himself tongue-tied when you spoke to him like this. His heart churned at your sudden display of emotions.

He missed you more than you could possibly know and spent most of the chilly nights in the wilderness, missing your soft voice and warm hands he had grown accustomed to. Before you, it didn’t matter where he was since his home was where he put his bedroll.

Now, though, his home was in your warm embrace. The ghost of your eyes tormented his every move, prodding him to return to you so the glimpses he thought he caught of you would become a reality.

How well you knew your Arthur. He was always quick with words but never with you. When you started paying attention to one another, dragging the words out of him required much effort. Stubborn as a mule, he was.

"Ah, I missed ya too, honey." His voice grew rough as he looked down at you. A warm feeling coursed through you at his words, pressing your cheek further against the cloth of his jeans, face illuminated by the lamp on the worn bedside table. The light bounced off the closed tent, creating a warm atmosphere.

Keeping close to Arthur, you looked up at him and staring back at you was a man with warm, soft-blue eyes and tousled honey-blond hair escaping his hat, looking slightly longer since you last saw him. Your chest tightened at the look he gave you, making you feel like the most precious thing he had ever seen.

Now, standing between one of your legs, you felt small beneath his tall frame. He felt many things watching you beneath him, face resting on the side of his hips, face too close to his guns for his liking, but he didn't move away. He felt all his limbs grow heavier when he observed you, finding only you to have this effect on him.

Your palms grazed the guns at his sides, being careful when lifting them from the holsters. They were heavier than you expected, not familiar with holding the weighty metal of a gun. The coarse leather of his gloves grasped your hands and lifted them with you, putting them on the bedside table.

A shrill ran through you, watching him grab them. He looked intimating, handling them like second nature compared to your unsure hands. It reminded you of the kind of man he was, or rather the man he had to be.

He could tell you felt wary; a familiar feeling of protectiveness he always directed towards you surging through him. You smiled slightly and stared at him through your lashes, palm stroking his thigh gently. He could feel himself melt at your behavior, realizing you were teasing him; testing the waters.

Most times, being intimate together went about the same way as you were inexperienced, and Arthur not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But he could feel the air had changed, making him stiff with intrigue and curiosity.

The tension in the tent was searing as you unbuckled his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. You were used to him taking control, but you felt unusually bold in his presence this night. Suddenly, Arthur suddenly lifted you to stand on the bed, making you tower over him as a breathless laugh left you.

Putting both of your hands on his stubby cheeks, he wrapped his arms around your middle, breathing in your sweet scent as he pulled you closer. Your stomach churned at having him this close, feeling his warm breath fan over you, making your nipples stiffen against the closeness of his mouth.

Slowly, he enclosed his mouth around your nipple, covered by the fabric of your blouse–being this close it proved hard for him not to. You closed your eyes at the sudden feeling, thumbs gently stroking the scruff of his beard as he grazed his tongue over your clothed bosom wantonly.

You lifted your trembling leg to rest at his side, his arm immediately coming to rest on your backside, bringing you closer to him. He caressed you tenderly as you felt him press his tongue over your thin blouse, making you moan slightly under your breath.

Opening your eyes, you looked down at him, the sight more erotic than anything you have ever seen. He held your gaze through hazy eyes, his reddening lips glistening slightly with saliva, resting on the now wet patch on your shirt. You lifted your hands, grabbed ahold of the hat almost falling off his head, and dropped it to the ground.

Running your fingers through his tousled hair, you brushed the wild pieces behind his ear, unkempt by his hat. He rumbled appreciatively at your action and you felt the rough leather from his gloves sneaking under your shirt that was folded into your skirt, finally touching your skin.

You were always so soft, and most of the time, he felt undeserving to touch something so perfect with his rough, unlawful hands, roughened by the hardship his life had brought onto him. Never should anyone who has done such malicious things put their hands on you–yet here he was, soiling you.

Your soft skin felt heavenly under his rugged palm as if delicate hands sculpted it with adoration so stout there couldn’t be a more beautiful creation than the one standing before him. He felt shameful but didn't have the strength to pull away; he never did. It felt too good to touch you, almost bordering on torture, the way he kept crawling after you like a starved man never getting enough.

Arthur tightened his grip on you, paying attention to your other side with his mouth, moving slowly as your breath hitch. You let your head fall over him, resting your cheek on the top of his head that you now cradled, enjoying the moment while wishing you could be in his arms forever.

Running your hands over his broad shoulders, you suddenly felt something wet touch your fingers. You perked up, looking at your hands. Covering your fingertips was a dark red substance. It was sticky like it had been there for a while.

"Arthur." You murmured, a light worry detectable in your voice. He didn't answer you, instead grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up his waist, burying his head in your chest. You wanted to giggle at him and probably would have if concern didn't seep into your mind.

"Arthur" Your voice was low, this time sounding more collected.

"It ain't my blood, darlin’," he mumbled, voice muffled by the fabric. You felt yourself relax, content no one had hurt him, but it left you wondering whose blood it was. "Don't you worry your pretty little head bout that," he said, like he could read your mind.

Arthur sat on the bed and it creaked under his weight, keeping you on his lap with your legs at either side of his thick thighs. He pushed your hesitant hips snugly against his, letting out a hum of appreciation, finally feeling your weight where he wanted you most.

Lifting his head from your chest, he gave you a look-over, and what a sight you were. Blush covered your cheeks as you looked at him with blissful but still worrisome eyes, a slight pink shade running down your neck into the cleavage of your blouse.

You brought your face close to his, feeling the roughness of his beard scrape against your cheeks as you leaned in, the worrying thoughts long gone as you felt his large hands slither into your skirt, kneading the soft flesh harshly under his palm.

You squeaked quietly, surprised by the sudden contact, your lips pausing, barely touching as you breathed in each other's air as your head spun in anticipation. The feeling of Arthur's warm hands so close to your exposed core made heat form in your lower belly and in your moment of bliss, you suddenly felt his lips on yours.

"Arthur." You whimpered against his mouth. Hearing his name from your mouth so pleadingly made the ache in his chest cramp at his heart, feeling the familiar warmth of pleasure spread. Amid his tongue massaging yours so sweetly contrasting the harshness of his hands, you lowered your hips softly.

The roughness of his jeans touching your center made a shockwave of rippling pleasure spread through you, making you choke out a mix between a moan and a cry. You lifted your chest slightly, leaning your head backward, making your hair fall in waves behind you.

Hugging Arthurs's head to your bosom, you felt his mouth on your breast once again. The feeling was too much, making your whole body tense as you tried to bring him closer. He hastily grabbed your blouse, dragging it out from the top of your skirt, and seeing he couldn't lift it over your head without unbuttoning it, he held the fabric in the middle, ripping the buttons quickly and exposing you to him. You wanted to complain, but feeling his mouth wrap around your now-bare nipple made you lose your train of thought.

They grew hard under the assault of his tongue; Arthur was sure he would’ve bitten them if he didn’t control himself. You were breathing frantically over him as his mouth moved against you, and he could hear how fast your heartbeat was.

He nuzzled the soft flesh, teeth grazing on the round bottoms of your breasts until he sucked on the peaks. You unknowingly motion your round hips in his lap, clearly getting worked up from his touch. His hand engulfed your hips, helping you rock back and forth on his lap.

The added pressure his hands brought made the rough material against your undergarments feel delicious as he moved his hips with yours, pushing you down every time you met his pelvis. The action was desperate, a silent plea for the bittersweet pleasure you sought within each other. His hands ran up your back, caressing the soft skin that shivered. Despite the chilly night, you were warm under his hands, calling for him to put his hands on you. You were beckoning him closer.

The moment was tender but filled with desperation that always seemed to linger around you. You ran your hands over Arthur's back, feeling the rough fabric of his worn-out shirt you knew so well. His broad shoulders bulged under your soft caresses as you could see his muscles tighten at your touch, his movements growing bolder as he once again placed his hands under your skirt, letting the fabric rest above your hips, exposing you to him. You felt him knead the warm flesh under his palms as he pushed you against him harder than before, pushing his crotch into yours, feeling the delicious warmth of your core against his bulge that strained against his pants. You could feel him under you, your face growing hot as his prominent member sat hard against you, pushing against its confinements.

"Oh," You could not help letting out a quiet moan as heat traveled through your body when you felt him. He stopped and looked up at you, leaving a string of spit between your breasts and his swollen lips. The look in his eyes made your breath hitch, his eyes hazy with a glint of warmth in them.

"Something wrong, honey?" His voice was low, almost sultry, and his hands softened against your bottom, no longer continuing his harsh treatment. The blush warmed your cheeks, realizing how exposed you were next to the fully dressed man. Having been lost in the moment, you hadn't noticed. But you did now. Arthur did, too, and praised the almighty; he didn't care if Colm O’Driscoll himself came and shot him right at this moment because he could die happy.

"No, I…" You tried to explain, but he seemed more focused on removing the ruined blouse from your arms, unable to help himself as he placed a few more kisses on the underside of your breasts. “I… uh…” The words were stuck in your throat, turning your brain into mush.

He took your hand, placing it on the lower side of his stomach, showing where he wanted your touch. You were timid, careful, and softly caressed the part over his waistline. You could tell he was growing impatient. His hands returned to your backside as he placed more kisses on your neck, slowly inching closer to your warmth while lifting you slightly, leaving room for your hand to travel further down. Cold fingers ran along the sides of your throbbing heat, teasing you and making you stiff with anticipation. Reaching your mouth, he placed his chapped lips on your soft ones, humming as he claimed you in the kiss. Thinking he would finally touch you, he suddenly lowered his hands and caressed your inner thigh, running his hands up and down. He then grabbed your hand, fitting it against his rigid member.

A relieved sigh left his body as he felt your small hand finally touch him. The relief only lasted so long before he felt the immense pleasure striking through his body at your soft caresses, hands leisurely moving up and down. They were unsure as they caressed him, but oh, they felt so good. Arthur felt his body go limp, almost like his muscles turned into heavy stones, as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

You let out a breathless giggle as you grew more confident when you saw his desperation for your touch. Hugging his head to your chest with one hand embedded in his hair, the other continued to move against him. Slowly, you took one finger and stroked the tip that strained against his pants. A heavy groan left his throat when you touched the sensitive spot, although the feeling felt muted from the layers of clothes.

You looked down beside his head to unfasten the suspenders holding up his jeans. You let them hang over his shoulders as your hands unzipped his jeans, unbuttoning a few buttons on his union suit so you could wriggle your hand inside.

First, your fingers touched a patch of hair under his belly button that led down to his member, the muscles tensing in his stomach. You followed it down, feeling Arthur’s warm breath against your shoulder.

"Christ alive!" The words wormed their way from his throat, sounding strained. You had winded your nimble fingers into his pants, fingertips feeling over the ridge beneath his cock. The touch alone sent a white flash of pleasure through his whole body. Smiling sheepishly, you rubbed your thumb up against the frenulum of his member, coaxing harsh noises from the man.

His head lay limp on your shoulders as his now sweaty hair tickled your skin, your actions turning his brain into mush. Your hand leisurely pumps his cock, going as slow as he can take it as you feel something warm start sliding down the back of your hand.

Curiously, you tried to look between your tightly knit bodies, leaning slightly away from Arthur for a moment. Although you didn't get the chance to look before his arms wound around your waist, bringing you closer to his broad form yet again. He lifted his head like he had woken from a deep slumber, lids heavy as he spoke.

"What kind of spell do you have me under, woman?" He rolled his hips up to meet your hand as it descended at the base of his cock. You readjust on his lap, scooting back slightly to gain more leverage for moving your arm. Arthur's eyes shut tight; his brows furrowed as you brought your other hand to his cheek, caressing it lovingly with your thumb as you gazed at him with warm eyes.

Being this close made you see him more clearly: the slight sunburns on the tall places on his face from being out in the sun all day, the lines on his forehead permanent from his constant frowning, and the thin layer of dirt covering his skin from the endless hard work he put up with. Too focused on what you were doing, he didn’t notice your stare, but his eyes found yours already looking at him when your hand slowed down.

At that moment, his lust drowned in his love for you.

Sometimes, he found you looking at him like that, and it was safe to say it baffled him. The tenderness in your eyes made him tense, unsure. He wasn't used to your affection, but your every move was an act of pure fondness for him. Although it puzzled him, he craved your attention at him at all times and boasted at having such a woman at his hands. A woman no doubt many men surely dreamed of for the rest of their lives if they ever got the chance to lay their eyes on you.

He felt your hand release the grip on his member, letting its now red, swollen tip rest against his stomach. Nimbly, you unbuttoned the other buttons on his union suit, your other hand sneaking under the fabric to touch the revealed skin, caressing his chest slowly as you reached the last button.

Running your hands from his chest to his shoulders, you let the fabric fall on his arms as you stroked over the broad muscles of his thick arms, appreciating their size. He noted that your wandering hands had grown bolder and relished in your touch. You leaned into him, his arms tightening around you to help you closer as you scooted up in his lap so you could reach his neck with your lips.

You heard Arthur grunt as your exposed cunt made contact with his cock when you raised your hips slightly, dragging your wet folds to his tip, letting it rest there as your warm lips put nimble kisses on the sweaty skin under his jawline. His shaft twitched when the muscles in his stomach clenched, the tip dripping precum on his skin as he felt his sack tighten.

"Do you want to kill me?" Breathlessly he spoke to you. Smiling through your kisses, you relished the power you seemed to have over him. "Maybe." You giggled against his skin, continuing to place timid kisses along his neck and pretending to bite him with your teeth. He scoffed at your playfulness, grabbing your bottom and grinding you over his swollen head.

A startled moan left your wet lips, surprised by the sudden contact. The pleasure that shot through your body was sweet but laced with a sharpness that made you quiver in his grasp. It felt delicious; the anticipation of the movement filled every inch of you with deep shivers that racked through your already shaking body.

Your mouth was left gaping against his shoulder, your lingering kisses paused by Arthur pushing you against him in small motions so he could feel the delicious friction your swollen lips created against his rigid member.

"You want me to touch you, darlin'?" His gruff voice spoke. You mewled against him, all traces of the dominance you thought you had for a second go, and he didn't even have to try. It made you realize he only let you because he wanted to.

Calmly, his fingers eased toward your wetness that now almost seemed to drip down your thigh in complaint at being untouched for so long. Two of his fingers parted to stroke either side of your lips, almost throbbing as you clenched around nothing. The strokes continued, never touching you where you wanted him to. You were going crazy. How could he tease you so?

"Arthur." Your voice was quiet and begging, an undertone of wholehearted want seeping through. He hummed against you, lifting your head to place his lips on yours as his fingers finally disappeared beneath your wet folds, gliding toward your clit and resting there. He began drawing small circles that blur your vision as your eyes rolled back, letting out ungodly sounds muted against his lips. His lips continued to move against you, but when he noticed yours weren't, a low chuckle escaped him. Seeing you sitting on top of him with your blouse discarded and skirt lifted to reveal the tempting flesh to his eyes, as your face showing nothing but pure pleasure, drove him mad. The pads of his fingers are rough against your delicate parts, only adding to the bliss surging through your body. As he stroked you gently, your back arched as your hands frantically grabbed his arms. You feel your hands shake, your grip tight on his biceps as his two fingers sink into your hole. You gasped at being filled, clenching your walls tight around his fingers. The stretch burned, his fingers thicker than yours.

Sweet moans reach Arthur’s ears as he moves against your spongy walls, the squelching sound of him entering you filling the quietness of the night. Knuckle deep in you, he bends them expertly, causing your breath to hitch, making you spread your thighs wider for him as you grind down on his hand. His motions were rapid as he dove deep into your heat. Your thighs contracted as you felt your whole body tense, his arms moving underneath your touch.

“Oh, Arthur, please.” You spotted his warm eyes staring into yours when you turned your gaze up at him. Your eyes were pleading with him to take you, tears brimming at the intense feelings he filled you with. He knew what you wanted but had to ensure you were ready, knowing you would hurt otherwise.

“I know, honey, just a little more.” Arthur caressed your hair softly as his jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his forehead as his eyes were stuck on you. He felt hopeless when you looked at him like this. You could get him to do whatever you wanted when looking at him like that; hell, Arthur would even kill for you if you asked. He was wet with your slick, his fingers jamming inside you as you lifted your legs, trying to escape his assault. The sudden change of pace made the pleasure unbearable. Not a single sound left your mouth as your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth hung open. He grabbed your hips, bringing you down against his fingers so you couldn’t escape.

Arthur hoisted you up, fingers leaving your dripping heat as he placed you over his throbbing head. Feeling your wetness wrap around him made his vision blur, ears ringing from the blood that rushed from his head. You leaned back, placing your hands on his knees as his hands found your hips. You sank slowly, watching his member disappear between your folds. The unison makes your heart swell, the thought of your body becoming one running through you like warm whisky, setting your blood afire.

Arthur’s breathing was heavy, his hands shaking slightly from the intenseness of the moment. Every movement was a silent plea for the moment never to end, wanting to stay connected for all eternity in each other’s embrace. The world disappeared around you, becoming a blur. The only thing you saw was each other as you moved over him, feeling him lift you to the top to lower you so you could hug him warmly. Your walls clamped down on him, his mushroom head prodding deep inside your spongy walls, eliciting whines from your open mouth. Arthur was used to being quiet, but you were struggling, terrified someone would hear. You wouldn’t be able to stand the humiliation if you were.

“Come here, darlin’.” He placed his brawny arms under your thighs, his member leaving you as he stood up and laid your back gently on the bed, his hand under your head. Always so careful. Your arms reached for him, seeking his solace and safe embrace as he returned to you, putting his weight on you as close as he could without hurting you. He entered you again as his head rested in the crevice of your neck, panting. He stuffed you full, fuller than you’ve ever been. Your cunt stretched obscenely around him, lips sealing around his cock with a snug, velvet grasp. He set the pace this time. His muscular frame was going slow, but his strokes were hard; your body was being pushed up the bed from the harshness of his thrusts. He brought you deeper into the mattress whenever you felt him dive back inside. Your legs found their way around his waist, bringing him closer to you. Arthur loves how you cling to him, helping you by holding you close as he prods you deeper. He takes your hand, bringing it to your chest and placing it between your breasts as he murmurs something in your skin. You’re too blissed out to hear what as his voice melts like honey at the base of your neck.

“Oh god!” You cry out between his thrusts, moonlight seeping through the folds of the tent and splashing his skin. His palms tremble against you from the effort. He cooed at your noises, shushing you by capturing your lips with his. You had messed up his hair in your blissful frenzy, and his eyes were glossy with lust. His hands ran down the side of your body that arched underneath him, grabbing your thigh and pushing the plush skin up to rest beside you so he could bury the whole cock inside you. You almost felt him in your guts as he prodded against your flesh, leaving you to mumble nonsense into his mouth between the gasps that escaped you from the force of his thrusts. The slide of his length against the silky, slick clench of your cunt is nothing less than ambrosial.

Arthur breathes heavily between clenched teeth as you tighten around him. He slowed his pace to draw himself almost entirely out of you before filling you again with a languid thrust. The coil inside him was tightening, threatening to snap. He was holding you so close now, shielding you from the world as you lay underneath him, eyes glazed with a faraway look. Each caress from his hand said the words his sex-addled mind couldn’t make his mouth form.

I love you

He wrapped his arm under your waist, supporting your arching body, pistoning you now with brutal efficiency. Still, affection lingered in everything he did. He never gripped you too hard as his rough hands remained gentle. For you. Only for you. His hands slipped down the planes of your stomach to apply gentle pressure to the hooded bundle of nerves, sending a shock through you like a burst of electricity. Whatever words you tried to speak came out as little more than a garbled cry as he teased furious circles over your still swollen clit, arms tight against his neck.

“Please.” Lust-filled sounds left you as you begged. You didn’t know what for, his assault leaving your thoughts in shambles. He doubted there was a more beautiful sight than the woman he loved unraveling under the force of his thrusts. Your walls clenched around him, contracting as you sucked him more profoundly into your cunt.

“I love you!” You cried into his ear; Arthur’s eyes shut tight as his hips spluttered, pumping deeper inside you, noises he let out erupting from his lips in a sound that could only be likened to a primal whine. With a final uneven snap of his hips, the coil inside him snapped, and his release spilled inside you. His forehead rested between your shoulder blades as he trembled, your hands resting in his hair lovingly amidst the tremors running through your body. Arthur’s hips snapped up into you one last time, pushing up into you as far as possible to continue feeling the warmth and tightness of your cunt. His cum spurted out, coating your walls and escaping your entrance that he was stuffing with his cock. He gripped your thighs, moving his hips languidly, basking in the sharp pleasure running through him as his vision faded.

You could feel him relaxing in your grasp, heavy breathing leaving him as he gently kissed your trembling skin. You hummed over him at his touch, a pleasureful little sound that, despite being wholly spent, had him wondering if he could muster up the energy to retake you as his head lifted to claim your lips, tongue flickering lazily out to tangle with your own. Arthur grabbed your thighs that were wound tightly around his waist as he scooted down the bed, pressing them to flush against the mattress. He spread you wide, your body covered in sweat and cum, exposed before his eyes as he wasted no time putting his mouth on your puffy cunt. His tongue was warm as he entangled it in your wetness. Your hands tried to grip your hair, sheets, and headboard to find stability until they rested in Arthur’s hair. He could feel you pull on his roots, the feeling making him groan against you. The sound created vibrations against your sensitive clit. It felt like his mouth was eating you whole as he nuzzled as close as he could, sucking ferociously on your tender flesh. His tongue entered you, making you dizzy as blood buzzed in your ears. You looked down at him, breath hitching as you found his hazy eyes already on yours. It felt sinful to keep eye contact with him as he performed such a sensual act on you, but his admiring eyes left you searing with pleasure. You couldn’t look away, not yet. You felt him wind his arms under your thighs as he gripped your inner thighs, sitting up so he was resting on his heels.

“Arthur!” You exclaimed at the sudden motion. Your head rested on the bed as Arthur lifted you off it, his arms wrapped around your stomach, hugging you tightly against him as he buried his head further into your cunt. The air left you from his actions, your legs hitting his back to escape the frenetic torture he put you through. Wet noises filled the tent, Arthur’s dark eyes gazing down at you. You looked sinful, he thought. Usually so innocent, but at this moment, with your hair spread out on the messy sheets, a pink flush covering your cheeks, and dazed eyes staring up at him, you looked like he had corrupted you and filled every inch of you with pure ecstasy. He lifted his mouth from you, the lower part of his face glistening wet as his fingers found your clit. They stroked you gently as he hummed at your quiet mewls.

“Gettin’ close, honey?” Arthur cooed as you stared up at him with glistening eyes, brows furrowed in pleasure. Your expression told him enough, so he lowered his head again and extended his tongue inside you, massaging your walls. It felt good, so good that high-pitched whines started leaving you. His one hand found your mouth, muffling the sounds. Your hips began twitching, moving against his mouth as you struggled between putting distance from his lips and pulling him closer. His fingers were relentless, rubbing you faster to where you heard ringing in your ears from the searing pleasure you felt coursing through you. The fire pooling low in your abdomen started spreading, leaving a burning trail as it flowed through your every vein. Your head rolled back against the sheets, mouth open wide, but no noise left you as hot tears fell from your eyes. The world slowed down, your orgasm shattering your body. Rippling through you, it made you tense up, your walls pulsing around Arthur’s tongue as he slowly massaged your insides, intensifying your orgasm. Your hips started jerking against him, his arm holding you still as he hummed against you while observing you underneath him.

The world before you was blurred when your eyes slowly opened, the ringing now faint as you felt Arthur kiss the inside of your thigh, his hand rubbing your stomach soothingly. He lowered you onto the bed as your eyes gained focus. He could feel you gaze at him as he lifted you to lay your head on the pillow, caressing your cheeks. It was quiet; the only thing cutting through the air was your frantic breathing, both of you trying to catch your breath. Your eyes locked, a silent understanding between you as your trembling hand brushed his sweaty strands behind his ears.

“I love you,” He mumbled against your skin, eyes peering up at you. There was a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, and it took a few seconds for you to recognize it. Remorse. “But I don’t deserve you.” He sounded defeated, eyes staring absentmindedly like he was off somewhere else. It was a rarity for him to be this honest with you, but his words rang true. He didn’t deserve you; he knew it, you knew it, and everyone around you knew it. But he had you, body and soul. He had every part of you, even the parts you wanted to shield from both him and the world. His arms wrapped around you, covering you in his safe embrace, and your heart ached inside you when gazing at the man in front of you.

Before you could speak, he placed his lips against yours. There wasn’t much to be said anymore, your hearts speaking the words your lips couldn’t utter.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption smut #red dead redemption 2 smut #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption 2 imagine #arthur morgan imagine #smut

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lwolfcat429 · 1 year ago

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Adopted Dad! Husk + young demon Cat reader

Husk found her in an alleyway, (before pilot) and out of the **kindness** his heart (more so knowing what's like being in hell at first and being scared) he took her in, not officially adopting her but just kinda keep her, she was around ages 15-16 in pilot+First season.

" ---tel? What the fuck is this?....You!! "

When Husk first arrived at the hotel, she was there with him napping as he gambled, also grewing scared and confused when teleported to the hotel. Gripping the table, ears lower and fur raising, Husk's wings Shielding her. Alastor knows of her and stood there smiling at the two

" Ah, Husker, y/n, my good friends! Glad you could make it! " Alastor said as everyone watched, reader standing there confused

vaggie pointing at the teenage cat demon "is that a child? "

" Don't you "Husker" me, you son of a bitch! I was about to win the whole damn pot! " husk said to Alastor, Alastor explained the situation with the hotel and husker growled, hissing at Alastor" You thought it'd be some kind of big fucking riot just to pull me out of nowhere?! You think I'm some kind of fucking clown?! "

Alastor smirked wider " Maybe " the reader holds in a laugh, husk looks at her with sharp slit pupils, she shakes her head waving and mumbling a sorry. Alastor tells husker he can ran a bar and a have a few drinks. Also just as long as reader isn't touching or drinking said alcohol drinks. Husker hissed again " what do you take me for? Of course I'm not giving her drinks!! I don't let her touch the stuff! she just ain't old enough!!" you stood by rolling your eyes, like any teenager "--- and What? You think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?! " Alastor glares at Husker menacingly " ...Well, you can! " Husker said, taking said booze fearful of Alastor.

Everyone was introduced to the reader, who (is kinda like loona) wants to be left alone and stays on her phone. Alastor kinda tries to teach her something about tech rooting her brain, she doesn't listen to anyone besides husk who kinda grumbles at her to at least talk or try to engage in conversation when people speak to her.

Husk's favorite moments with the reader are when she wants to help but he doesn't want her to touch booze yet, since it's so additive and he doesn't want her to ruin her life. So he goes to the second beast and tells her to cook something and serve it, which she's good at. Husk has given her a "job" (more like his little helper) since he found her, which has been her cooking food

Charlie watches Husk and Reader bond. While cooking, (husker watches so she doesn't hurt herself) the reader sprays husk with water to piss him off. Which he replied with pouring some flour on her. Alastor also watched, finding the scenario "cute" but also entertaining. Vaggie made sure husk and reader cleaned the mess, while angel stood up telling husk the reader was kicking his ass at a childish game. Nifty just joined in to clean making sure they were doing it properly

When Husk met Valentino, the reader was also there to support Angel. Telling him Valentino sucked and Angel was bad ass in standing up to him. Husk told Angel to keep fighting Valentino. Angel in a way turned into a second dad when it came to the reader, one time as a joke, the reader made angel food cake and told the Angel it was for him. A hole in the middle of the cake with icing making it look like an ass hole. Husk nearly choked on his beer as Angel was dying laughing at the joke.

Everyone else found it less amusing.

Angel helps the reader cook and makes sure her room is clean, despite his own room being kinda dirty. Angel and Husk are getting teen reader out of her shell but being protective when it comes to boys, and girls depending on their attitude.

The reader suffers with nightmares, during her life, her parents were abusive so in a fight she killed both of them, and they also killed her during said fight. So sometimes everyone can hear the reader crying or screaming. Husk is the only one who walks to comfort her. Telling everyone to give her space, he'll handle it. But Angel walks in. The reader is under her bed, husk trying to get her out and comfort her. Angels lay on the ground telling her stories, singing songs and telling her how bad ass she is for fighting back against her parents, like how she comforted him when he stood up to Valentino, this sorta helps. Reader comes out, allowing Angel and husk to hug her. Husk makes her hot chocolate to help her sleep and Angel cuddles her, rubbing her fur and singing her good night.

Charlie proceeded to hug and praise husk and Angel for taking care of the reader so well.

Scenario;

The reader got an invite to a party by cherry bomb, the cool aunt who also helps get her out of her shell, reader Mets some people. But husk, Angel and surprisingly Alastor, the strict uncle, was not pleased by this. So they went to find her. Only to see a wolf demon, holding down the reader, she's scared and tearing up. You could hear angel yelling "my baby" as he ran to her. Husk, and angel Jump on the wolf. Alastor, gently helping reader up, telling her this was why she shouldn't go to parties. He teleports her to the hotel where vaggie, Charlie and nifty comfort her.

The wolf demon was found dead, dismembered and basically Unrecognizable that same night

#yandere hazbin hotel #platonic yandere #yandere! hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #yandere husk #husk x daughter reader #yandere angel dust #Angel dusk x daughter reader #platonic yandere hazbin hotel #platonic yandere Alastor

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acapelladitty · 11 months ago

Text

take a drink from an empty cup

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Fem!Reader

Summary: Pursued by the infamous ghoul who is hunting you across the wastelands, you find that he has a very creative plan in place to punish you for your continued disobedience. (3.1k words).

(warnings for: cnc play, forced deepthroat, orgasm control, rope restriants, physical violence, oral sex, blood, threats of violence, unprotected sex, fingering, mild aftercare, dark humour, subspace, predator/prey)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Rapid feet kicking up soft plumes of red dirt as they pound across the dusty ground, the heat of the sun on your exposed skin bears down like a sheepskin blanket - your slickened skin feeling hot and uncomfortable despite the chill of anxiety which powers your frantic movements.

Panting as you duck behind the corner of a building, your ears strain for any sound, any whisper of your attackers whereabouts. Wearing only a tattered shirt and light-coloured panties, you're too consumed by fear to have any shame about your state of undress.

A low whistle forces your spine to straighten, eyes peeking around the corner as you watch him appear from the depths of a side street.

"Running ain't gonna save you, sweetie. Best give up before you really piss me off."

The Ghoul.

Cooper Howard.

The man hunting you with the casualness of a cat preying on an injured bird, certain of the victory to come.

You could hear it in his voice, in the way that his low tones carry with ease across the abandoned town as they swept across you with the breeze.

"If you're unlucky enough, you might catch the attention of the gang in the next town over. I hear they use their finds to entertain the dogs or sometimes the odd deathclaw if it's behaved well enough." Cooper paused, his head visibly scanning the ground as he sought out your messy tracks. "Hell, might even do that myself if you keep playin' so hard to get."

His footfalls are steady as they approach the corner you're hiding behind, the polar opposite of your own trembling limbs, and a surge of strength forces you to push off from your hiding spot and make a break for it. You don't dare turn around and look at him but you hear his speed increase as he zeroes in on his hunted prey.

He's faster, he always is, and his hands lock around your shoulders as the solid heat of him pulls you flush to his chest.

"Caught you, sweetheart. Now let's see about taking what's mine."

Body thrashing as the hard bulge of his cock presses against the lower end of your back, a feral howl - half fear and half rage - claws free of your throat and you slam your elbow back. It connects with his groin, and his hands drop from your shoulders like they had burned him as his face twists into a violent scowl.

"Motherfucker!" Cupping his cock through his slacks with a tender motion, you take the momentay distraction to run once more and refuse to look back at him as he recovers and continues to hollers his threats after you. "You'll pay for that, darling. Eye for an eye and I take mine with teeth."

You run on adrenaline, the frayed shirt whipping around your upper thighs with every quick turn as you seek out an escape route. Eyeing up a set of wooden stairs which lead to the upper level of a nearby building, you bolt for them with a sudden swing of your hips.

You don't feel the rope of the lasso closing around your foot until it's too late.

One moment, you're running, and the next you find yourself slamming into the wooden boards with a pained yelp - your knees and tits catching on the edge of the stairs as your mouth glances off the banister, bursting your lower lip in a sharp flash of pain as the taste of copper immediately fills your mouth.

Stunned as hell, you can't even catch a breath as you flip to your back, staring up at the unforgiving sun.

Cooper, his hand coiled around the other end of the rope, is just as unforgiving and he tugs the length with a vicious heave - the pressure enough to snatch you closer and pull you down a few stairs. The strong wood clatters against the back of your head with a horrid intensity, the bump of two stairs causing stars to flash in your vision as they leave a dull ache in their wake.

He's on you like a pack of wild dogs, his body dropping atop your own to pin you to the stairs by the sheer weight of him. Bruised and battered, you can't muster the strength to fight him off and instead the pathetic writhe of your body only seems to excite him more as his face swims before your own.

"Seems to me like you owe me an apology, little lady. Now," Cooper pauses and his hand wraps around your chin to force you to meet his eye, "I could be a bad man and treat you nasty, beating that lovely hide til it bleeds and glows even redder than mine, but that's not what's gonna happen here."

Whimpering, his knee drops to press roughly against your lower stomach, emphasising just how utterly trapped you were as his smug, leathered face blocks the sun from your gaze.

"Where I'm from, we kiss and make up, and since it wasn't my mouth you chose to smack up, I think you'll be better suited putting those pretty lips elsewhere."

"N-no." You stutter out, a low whine increasing in pitch as his other hand pulls at your hair, his grip igniting fire in your scalp. "Please, no."

His hand scores across your face, the blow not enough to cause any real pain outside of disturbing your busted lip, but definitely enough to put an end to your refusals as you gaze up at him with watery eyes.

"Bite and I'll take those teeth, mind." Cooper warns, his brow furrowing in warning as the hole of his nose flares. "One by one. I'm sure you've taken ghoul cock before, sweetheart. What's one more, huh?"

As he speaks, he frees his cock with an excited grunt and his grip on your hair grows even more rough while he yanks at the strands to encourage your lips to part, uncaring of the split lip which is still gently bleeding.

"Nice and slow."

Incapable of doing much more, you open your mouth and accept his cock with a low whimper. He's already excited and as the tip of his cock glances off your tongue, you can taste his pre-cum, the pearly liquid more acrid than anything you'd tasted before. His cock is thick, the girth of it already threateneing to make your jaw ache as he slides himself across your mouth a few times - testing out your limits with a tight control.

"Oh yeah." Cooper rumbles. "This'll do. Time to work on your breathing, sweetheart."

Canting his hips forward, the tip of his cock buries itself down your throat and the suddenness of the movement makes your body startle - reawakening the various aches of your earlier fall as you choke around his cock and desperately claw at his clothed thighs with your fingers.

He ignores your distress, instead focusing on his own pleasure as he alternates between using his hand to guide your head along his cock and thrusting his own groin forward; both actions merciless in their treatment as an obscenely wet noise fills the space.

Head bobbing along his cock forcefully, nausea rises in your chest as his textured skin rams into the back of your throat - sparking your gag relax as you swallow around his cock in open panic.

"Keep massaging my cock like that, darlin', and I won't make it to the main event."

Cooper growls the words, smirking down at your misery as your vision swims, and he snatches his cock free with one swift pull.

Coughing and spluttering, you inhale big gulps of air and they burn your lungs like fresh hell - a light-headedness making your skull pound as you desperately try to fix yourself.

Lying like a broken marionette doll, your strings well and truly cut, you can't do anything but whimper anew as his rough hands grip their way up your thighs to cup at your cunt though your panties.

"You'll not be needing these any time soon." Cooper grunts, ripping the panties from you with a wicked strength; the fabric tearing like paper as you shudder and attempt to close your thighs around his hand. A move which quickly draws a low cry from your lips as he responds by pinching at your clit roughly with two fingers.

"Play nice, sweetheart, or I'll play rough. And you won't like that as much. In fact-"

The world spins as he flips you from your back, strong hands easily maneuvering you to ensure that your body is positioned on the stairs to allow him easy access to your holes - your head pressing into a higher stair as you tilt your face to allocate the pressure on your busted up lip.

Something like a sob slips free of your lips as one of his hands presses down heavily on your lower back, forcing your ass to arch up higher, as his other hands cups at your sex once more.

"Hmm, but which hole to use? I'm sure that hole has seen enough action to make any ride as smooth as a whisky sour." His fingers tease along your slit, refusing to push any deeper as they trail up to your skin and brush along the rim of your ass. "But then, if I want a tighter ride then maybe this fine ass would be better, might even learn you a lesson about showing respect too. I ain't afraid of a bucking bronco and I'm sure you'd take it like a champ."

"Not there." You mutter out, voice defeated. "Please."

"Hmm, then you better be good and I'll see about giving the little whore what she wants." You can hear the smirk in his tone as he gropes your body like a butcher measuring up a fresh hunk of meat. "Say it, sweetheart, ask me to fuck you and I'll let you choose."

"Plea-please fuck me?" The words taste sour against your tongue, the heat from his body making your head feel fuzzy. That, or the multiple knocks on the stairs were finally getting to you. Regardless, tears threaten the corners of your eyes once more as you are forced to play his little game. "I want you to- to fuck me."

"Well now," giving a low whistle as he lines the blunted head of his cock up with your cunt, Cooper has the gall to sound smug at the ask, "what kind of gentleman would I be to ignore such a request from a pretty little thing?"

With a single thrust of his hips, he buries his cock to the hilt within your cunt and the sudden burn of your flesh as it's forced to stretch and give way to his cock draws a strangled yelp of pain from your lips. His earlier actions having sparked some arousal in your traitorous frame, you weren't fully dry and Cooper chuckled lowly as his felt the moisture surrounding his cock as he stilled his hips.

"Well, well, well." He growls, his groin hot against your own as his balls hang heavy against your cunt. "Looks like this little hellcat isn't as unwilling as she wants me to think. You're soaked, sweetie."

Hot shame making you slam your eyes shut as you adjust to the pressure of his cock, you feel the heat of your walls being pulled roughly as he starts to lazily thrust. Every stroke is awful in how determined it is to make you feel every textured inch of his cock, Cooper pulling free until only the head is breaching your hole before slamming deep once more - his cock glancing off your cervix painfully.

Worse than that, is just how good it feels.

The ridged and slightly rough texture of his cock stimulates every nerve in your heated hole and the betraying arousal only serves to make the growing band of arousal in your gut even more cruel in its intensity.

It's uncomfortable, it's hot, and it's so fucking good.

Body aching despite the distraction of his cock, you try to focus on the building pleasure as a means to escape the other more shitty feelings which afflict you. In spite of it all, the tight band of pleasure across your groin is undeniable and his cock seems to brush the sensitive spot inside you with pinpoint precision, every thrust making your toes curl while you whimper and whine.

You come with a startled gasp, waves of pleasure crashing through your body as your cunt spasms around his cock - pulling him deeper as your walls milk him for what he's worth. He seems to appreciate it though, as his pace - if possible - grows even sloppier and his groin makes a obscene slapping noise while it bounces off your ass.

Overly sensitive, you squeak in discomfort as he continues to fuck himself into you without mercy; dragging your orgasm out until you're cunt feels heated and your limbs ache from the constant flex of the muscles. He's vocal too - grunts and low growls of pleasure marking his movements as his thick hands pin you into place to give his cock unfettered access to your hole.

Eventually, you feel his cock give a very definite twitch within your cunt and you gasp anew as a fresh heat floods your walls; his release pumping itself as deeply within your hole as it can while he remains flush against your ass.

"Goddamn, sweetie. Ain't nothing like it."

He pulls his cock free, the hardened length only just beginning to wilt and you feel the mess that coats every inch as it slips free. Body feeling well used and deliciously uncomfortable, you stay in place, unsure of what he plans for you next and in no fit state to escape without further injury.

"Smooth as a whisky sour." Cooper repeats his earlier words, his voice sated and low with his satisfactory use of your hole. "But i'm sure you got another good one in you."

His hand is harsh against your back again until the pressure forces your ass up higher - the combined mess in your cunt dripping free to the wooden stair below.

Panic reignites in your chest as a sinking feeling alerts you to his plans.

"I can't- please, don't! Please!"

He ignores you and you feel his rough fingers pressing along your slit until he finds the target of his little game - your clit already swollen and making itself an easier target. His forefinger grazes the nub and the intensity of the touch makes you howl as fresh lightning scores across your spine.

It only takes him a few deliberate movements, rough strokes giving way to a more gentle circling motion and your cunt clenches around nothing as he easily pulls a second orgasm from you; your legs painfully tense as you bury your cries in the skin of your forearm and hump your cunt in the warm air, wordlessly encouraging his fingers to push you even further.

"Greedy little thing." Cooper chastises, enjoying how pathetic your movements are as the shame of being forced to come around his fingers only serves to make the pleasure all the sweeter. "Look at how shameless you are, darling', pretending that you aren't desperate to be wrapped around my cock again."

Denying it with a frantic shake of your head, you ride his fingers regardless until he takes pity and pulls his hand away from your overstimulated and aching cunt - your legs trembling and fists clenching against the hard grain of the wooden stair.

Cooper exhales deeply, his body rolling from your own as he lays flat out on the stair by your side. The scent of sex and sweat hands heavy in the heated air, a pungent aroma that speaks to just how roughly he had treated you and your fingers are quick to sink into the lapels of his leather duster as you inch closer to him.

Sensing your movements, Cooper extends his arm overhead and allows you to burrow in close to his side, your legs hooking within his own while a pained gasp slips free of your lips as the motion causes the ache in your sex to sting anew. The gasp forces a soft coughing fit, your abused throat really forcing its attention as you shiver in place.

Wordlessly, Cooper sinks his hand deep within his side pocket and pulls free his flask, handing it off to you with a pointed look.

"Thanks." You croak out. Taking a deep swig, the warm water may as well have been taken from the most pristine, crystal blue spring as the relief it pours through your gritty throat and aching, heated limbs is like pure heaven.

Thoroughly fucked and satisfied, the comedown of your activities draws a fresh shudder from your spine as you hand Cooper back his flask - his blazing eyes watching your every move with pinpoint precision.

"Need anything else, sweetheart?" His voice is low and raspy, saturated with the same satisfaction as your own and his features are loose as his arm wraps around your lower back to keep you close.

Shaking your head, you blurt out the first thing that springs to mind. "Didn't mean to hit you in the dick."

At that, Cooper chuckles; a genuine laugh that rumbles through his chest as his head tilts back ever so slightly. Like this, in the post-fuck haze, he's at his most muted and content - his expression open and relaxed as he enjoys the feel of you against him.

"Liar." He accuses without fire. "Suited me fine though, darlin', cause it made it easier to smack you down those stairs."

Your little games were an idea of your own making, his enthusiasm taking some time to come around until he was convinced that you were eager and willing despite your actions.

"Great." Tired and slightly nauseous, you can't help but smile at him as the ragged edge of his nose hole flares with his suppressed amusement. "You banged me up good. My lip is fucked."

"Fucked more than just that, sweetie. You almost got away this time."

"Liar." You parrot his earlier words.

"Gotta say though, you're getting much better at swallowing my cock down-"

Interjecting quickly, you roll your eyes at him. "Didn't have much of a choice."

"-getting a bit too good mind. Might have to start making some scratch from those skills. Put you to good use. What do you think?"

The sun beating down on your skin as the uncomfortably sticky mess from between your thighs continues to drip free of your abused cunt, a weariness sets into your bones as you cling to him with desperate fingers - a strong desire to drift off into a short nap clawing at your senses.

"You're too much of a jealous son of a bitch." You sigh out, closing your eyes as you focus on the beat of his heart as it thrums beneath your ears. "You'd kill the first man to look at me funny."

Sensing your fatigue, Cooper matches your exhale with one of his own as he fixes his hat across his forehead.

"Sleep, sweetheart. We'll pick this dumbass conversation up when you're not dripping like an old faucet."

Eyes slipping close, the nasty comparison draws a smirk from you regardless as you wrap your leg around his own with a tighter grip and settle in for a recovery nap.

#mind the tags folks!! i do tag as appropriately as i can #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #ghoul x you #fallout #fallout 2024 #fallout fanfic #fallout fic #fallout tv series #the ghoul smut #cooper howard smut #fallout smut #ghoul smut #walton goggins

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mlqueen89 · 27 days ago

Text

Five | Favour

I don't know what you've been told But time is running out, no need to take it slow I'm stepping to you toe-to-toe I should be scared, honey, maybe so But I ain't worried 'bout it right now (right now)

I Ain’t Worried About by OneRepublic

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

warnings/triggers: smut in overall series, gambling (let me know if i missed any!)

word count: 10,315

summary: ellie tries to be human. jake comes along for the ride. rooster is rooster. and teak is an asshole.

A/N: capping off our chapter four, that accidentally became chapter 5 cause i can't write anything short to save my liiiife.

dropped a little hinty poo in the chapter banner if you're curious who teak was modeled after. hang onto your butts, cause there's something special (it's smut) in the next chapter.

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ glossary of terms ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥

Ellie was staring at the data, but she wasn’t really seeing it. The test results were all there—every fluctuation, every spike, every point of measurement leading right up to Hangman damn near breaking her system before it had a chance to breathe. She should’ve been combing through it, analyzing the weak points, figuring out what needed reinforcement, programming tweaks, writing out her adjustment report for the ground crew. She even entertained the idea of calling the update Anti-Cocky SOB Pilot Protocol, hidden somewhere in the code, a small little piece of nothing when someone who didn’t know code looked at it. Although programming an entire failsafe trigger around Hangman felt a little like overkill, a carefully masked line of code might satisfy the tiny petty part of her. Hell, she’d sure as hell get something out of it when it flashed across her screen the next time Hangman tried (and failed) to break her tech.

Instead, her thoughts kept circling back to Rooster’s words, to the way he’d defended Hangman like Ellie was the unreasonable one in this situation. Like she was the one who didn’t get it. Ellie respected Rooster in many ways, but she couldn’t get on board with being on the wrong side of this.

Simply put, Hangman hadn’t followed the parameters of testing. Hangman hadn’t respected her enough to run her test the way she needed it to be run. The train of thought made her pulse tick up, the heat of anger building inside her chest as she felt the muscles in her jaw tighten.

A quiet knock on the frame of her open door pulled her out of it, shifted the boiling pot off the burner and settled the simmering water that threatened to spill over the edge. When she looked up, Mav was leaning against the doorjamb, casually unbothered, his arms crossed over his chest. Despite his nonchalant appearance, Ellie clocked the familiar knowing expression set into his features. How long he had been standing there, watching her stew in her own thoughts, she couldn’t have been sure.

“Got a minute?” he asked, but he was already stepping into her office, his gait careful and slow as he approached.

Ellie nodded, closing out one of the screens, her hand trembling slightly as her heart, still coming down from the thought of the testing and the resulting conversation with Rooster, pounded heavily in her chest, before swiveling in her chair to face him. “If this is about today’s test results, I was just about to—”

Maverick pulled up a chair across from her, dragging it closer with a skip-stutter of the legs on tiled floor. “We can go over them. But that’s not why I’m here.”

She frowned slightly, waiting. In all the years she’d known Mav—Uncle Mav—she could count on one hand the few times she’d ever seen him serious, and it reminded her that his face could impart it.

“You seemed… distracted earlier,” Mav’s approach was as careful as it had been when he’d stepped into her office, tilting his head as he studied her, testing the waters. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not sure when you got so good at this,” Ellie waved her hand as if she were gathering up the essence of his presence, searching for the right word, “—relaxed dad vibe, Mav, it’s very—”

“Oklahoma.”

Ellie bit her lip, hard. Mav’s face remained stoic.

Fucking Oklahoma.

She should’ve seen that one coming.

Ellie exhaled sharply, dropping her head back against the chair.

The Oklahoma rule had started when she was a kid—probably around nine or ten if memory served—during one of the rare times Mav had been around for more than a few days at a time. They’d been in the backyard, her brand-new white sneakers covered in dirt, arms crossed tight as she glared up at him, stubborn and fuming after getting caught trying to sneak out past bedtime. She’d made it past her dad and her uncle Wolfman sharing a beer in the kitchen and her mom talking on the phone with the long cord stretched around the corner into the living room. She’d avoided the creaking stair halfway down the porch and was approaching her swing-set, bathed in the orange twilight when he’d stepped out from the shadowed spot on the porch. Maverick.

“Dad said I could swing.” Ellie announced, sure of herself when her Uncle Mav had asked if she should be in bed, glancing down at his watch.

“You really gonna lie to me, kid?” Mav had crouched down to her level, his eyes boring into hers, serious in a way she had never seen him before at that age. Her uncle Mav was the one who let her eat cookies after she’d brushed her teeth, her uncle Mav brought her cool rocks from the places he’d visited, her uncle Mav was not serious.

“No,” she’d said, but she’d been looking down at her toes, studying the largest fleck of half-dried dark brown mud across the top of her once pristinely white shoes. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, even as the silence stretched, and she almost wondered if he’d given up on the interrogation.

“That so?”

She had stood her ground, chin lifted when she realized that he was indeed as serious as a heart attack as her mom would say, until Mav narrowed his eyes and—without warning—broke the silence. “Oklahoma.”

It had meant nothing to her at the time. A random word, plucked from the sky. So random that she had waited, waited for his next words before she spoke again. “What?”

“Oklahoma,” he had repeated evenly, confident and sure as if it were the most obvious thing a person would say in the current situation. “Means you have to tell the truth. No lying, no dodging. Just straight answers.”

She had hesitated, sensing a trap, the kind adults set for kids who misbehaved. Santa will know you’re not actually sleeping. If you don’t eat carrots, you’ll go blind. Oklahoma means you have to tell the truth—or else.

“That’s not a real rule.”

“It is now. Wanna ask your old man?”

Ellie had yelped, reaching for Mav’s hand as he stood, pulling him back with a shake of her head, her tiny ponytail whipping around her face.

And just like that, it had stuck. Over the years, it became their unspoken pact. It had become so engrained in her, that even though it had been years since she’d seen Mav, the word evoked the same feelings, an almost Pavlovian response to spill her guts.

Now, sitting across from Mav in her office, Ellie pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Come on, kid,” Mav urged. “Out with it. Rules are rules.”

Ellie resisted the urge to throw it back at him, wasn’t he the one who didn’t like rules? Instead, Ellie exhaled slowly, reaching up to massage her temples for a beat before she finally relented. Going toe-to-stubborn-toe with Mav was a losing game.

Ellie exhaled through her nose. “I’m fine.”

Maverick didn’t look convinced. “Ellie.” His voice was softer now, more measured. “I saw the way you and Hangman went at it today. And then Rooster. Whatever’s going on there—don’t let it get in the way. Your work could make a lot of difference.”

Ellie bristled, could feel the prickle of reproach travel up her spine, seeping into her words before she could filer them into a measured tone. “It’s not getting in the way.”

Maverick gave her a look. “You sure about that?”

She sat up straighter, squared her shoulders. “I can do this, Mav.”

He nodded slowly, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I believe you. But I’ve seen what happens when you let personal feelings cloud your judgment. And I’ve been on the other side of it too.” His gaze flickered, just for a second, to the framed photo over her shoulder on the shelf, the one with Mav, and her dad, Wolfman, Iceman and Slider, and... Goose.

Goose, Mav’s old RIO; Goose, Rooster’s dad.

Ellie’s throat tightened and she felt the fight leave her.

Mav didn’t wait for her to say anything, his eyes back on her now as he continued. “I know what it’s like to feel like you have to prove something. To yourself. To everyone else. And I know what it’s like to let that get in the way of what actually matters.”

Ellie swallowed. “This isn’t about proving myself...”

Maverick met her gaze, his brow raised. He didn’t need to say it this time.

“Okay, maybe I want to, just a little,” she admitted. It felt like the information was being prised from her strong grip. She just didn’t know who she wanted to prove herself to yet, or maybe she wasn’t ready to admit it. “But that’s not why I don’t tr—” Ellie paused, sorting her words out for a moment before she started again. “He didn’t follow the testing parameters, Mav. He didn’t just push the system—he pushed me. And we don’t have time to play games with some hotshot pilot who wants to see if he can break my work before it’s even ready for that kind of stress test.”

Maverick sat up, his hands sliding across his pant legs, taking a moment to study Ellie, watching her for a beat and then two before he spoke, leaning back in the chair. “Are you okay to continue? There’s no shame in bringing this back to the drawing board.”

Ellie met his gaze, steady and unwavering. If anyone but Mav had suggested it, she’d be all over them. “I’ve spent years working to get here. I lived on bases in Germany and Turkey and South Korea, working on this. I am not letting it all fall apart because I can’t get a handle on a few pilots. It’s ready. I’m ready.”

Maverick nodded once, seemingly satisfied. Then he smirked, wry and wide, giving his head a slight shake. “You know, you remind me of someone.”

“Great. That’ll definitely get me a lot of bonus points with Admiral Simpson,” Ellie huffed a laugh. “Should I be worried?”

Mav’s shrug was easy, immediate, “probably.” His expression softened, turning into something more genuine. “Come on. Let’s go over those results. Figure out what we need to tweak to stick it to our hotshot pilots. I can chat with Hondo to make it happen if we need more resources.”

Ellie nodded; the smile that twisted her lips not easy to hide as she turned back to her screen. “I was actually thinking of programming a failsafe called ACSOBPP.”

“ACSOBPP?”

“Anti-Cocky S.O.B. Pilot Protocol.” Ellie smirked and from the corner of her eye, she could see Mav relax, the serious exterior fading away until a glimmer of Uncle Mav peeked through.

“I think Anti-Seresin Protocol might be more... succinct?”

Her responding snort had her shaking her head, and as she pulled up the data, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Mav saw through her quicker than she felt comfortable admitting.

Rooster: You coming to the Hard Deck tonight?

A picture of a glass of gin sitting on the hard top of a bar came through next.

Ellie: Maybe.

Rooster: That’s not a real answer.

Ellie: It’s the only one you’re getting.

Rooster: So that’s a yes.

Ellie huffed, tossing her phone onto the bed behind her as she turned back toward her open closet, wrapped in a towel, hair still slightly damp from the shower, chewing her thumbnail.

She’d firmly decided not to go to the Hard Deck tonight by the time she’d stepped in through the front door, her mind already drifting to the book on her nightstand she’d yet to pick up again since the flight back to San Fran. After the day she’d had, full of a dull, pulsing mix of nerves and rage, there was nothing she’d rather do at this moment than pack it in for the night, turn off her social meter and relax until she drifted into the oblivion of sleep.

She’d followed through the motions: climbing the stairs to the main living area, every step heavy; a quick wave to Yan who sang off-key to the music thumping through her earbuds as she spread peanut butter on a slice of toast in the kitchen and didn’t notice Ellie passing; trudging to her room down the hall, pausing only for a moment to straighten a crooked frame on the wall; stripping off her clothes and stepping into the shower in her ensuite and letting the water wash away the calcified stress.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing under the water but when she opened her eyes, the small room was fogged with steam, and her phone was buzzing with a text message on the window ledge near the shower. Rooster.

Now, she stood in front of her closet, mind slightly changed about going out, the book on her nightstand, forgotten again. It took her a minute to pull on a pair of jeans, a white tank top and the black leather jacket she’d had for as long as she could remember.

When she slipped out of her room, her hair mostly dried and a small bit of makeup dusting her features, Yan was no longer in the kitchen and the house was dim, save for the light over the stove.

“I know you’re not sneaking out the door in your ‘fuck me’ jacket.” Nic muttered lazily, her hair a nest as she blinked at the time on the stove display.

“No.” Ellie had responded too quickly, she knew because Nic’s eyes were on her, taking in the rest of her outfit, from ankle boot to the crown of her high ponytail.

Instinctively, Ellie tugged the black leather jacket tighter around her body, her arms folded across her chest. “It’s just a jacket, Nic.” She wanted to ignore the fact she hadn’t worn her vintage aviator jacket since, well—

Nic was shaking her head, mostly to herself, but Ellie knew which thoughts were running through her friend’s head, because she knew Nic’s as well as her own. This was the jacket that had made it through the college days of clubbing in downtown San Fran; this jacket had ended up on the floor of more than one bedroom; this jacket had been with them on their “girl’s trip” to Rome. This jacket was fun Ellie’s armour. This jacket had providence: the fuck me jacket. On the inside tag where the washing instructions had long faded away, Nic had once written an ‘F’ and an ‘M’.

“Does this, per chance, have anything to do with the fact you were sporting a serious love bite the day after my party?”

Ellie let out a dry laugh, incredulous, though she felt the heat creeping up the back of her neck. “Oh, definitely not.”

Bradley had said she needed to appear more ‘human’, and less Ned Leeds/Girl in the Chair to Spiderman; less Woman in the High Castle; more down to their level, accessible. She had to prove she wasn’t sent by SkyNet to systematically wipe them out. This was her white flag; the Christmas truce of 1914 (Ellie’s version). “I’m trying to be more... likeable?”

“Ok. Well, in that case...” Nic snorted as she grabbed the first glass from the cabinet she was reaching into and slotted it under the faucet. She filled it near to the top and drained half with noisy gulps before she continued. It was clear she didn’t believe Ellie as much as Ellie would have liked her to. “Tell Bradley it’s going to be on him if you get your spiky, impenetrable, stone heart broken by some hotshot pilot.”

This time, it was Ellie’s turn to snort. “Trust me, there’s a negative zero chance of that.”

And yet, Jake’s stupid, not not handsome face was there, in the back of her mind already fully formed, sipping on her coffee, the spark behind his green eyes alive. Quickly, the image shifted: his tall frame folded into the briefing chair this afternoon, toothpick pinched between his perfect teeth, his eyes dancing like he really got it when she spoke about her life’s work. Her stomach twisted, something all at once unpleasant and yet...not.

Then, the reminder of her tech screaming loud, red, flashing warnings as he pushed past the parameters she’d set filled her head. His voice in her ears, smooth, calm as he pushed that same work, she thought he’d admired moments before to the breaking point.

Ellie felt the prickle of irritation rising. Simultaneously, she felt the overwhelming urge to punch him waring with the impulse to reach out and touch the curve of his jaw, allow her fingers to ghost the place on his cheek where the dimples appeared when he smirked, satisfy the itch she felt to—nope. No. She tamped the stray thoughts down, swatted away the misty image of his perfect features until no trace remained. Shooed them back to the box in her mind with the flimsy tape and the warning stickers.

“Dude.” Nic’s eyebrow couldn’t possibly have arched higher on her forehead as she stared at Ellie, “be so fucking for real right now. Your eyes are glazing over.”

“What’s going on?” Yan’s bedroom door clicked shut softly as she pulled an earbud out and slid up to the kitchen island where Nic was standing.

“Oh, you know, Ell was just sneaking out the door like a hormonal teen in the ‘fuck me’, jacket.” Nic waved at Yan, offering the jar of Nutella she’d pulled out somewhere between Ellie’s eye-glazed thoughts and now. Nic reached into the drawer to her left to give Yan a clean spoon, her eyes never leaving Ellie.

“Woah—new development in the—?” Yan took the spoon and leaned on the counter, mirroring Nic’s posture, clinking her spoon with Nic’s expectantly outstretched one before she dug into the jar of hazelnut paste. Yan waggled her eyebrows at Ellie while Nic watched, casting her gaze between her two roommates, quietly gathering puzzle pieces. Ellie’s shoulders sagged.

“Wait, what thing? What new development?” Nic was already asking qualifying questions. She suddenly didn’t seem sleepy anymore.

Ellie rolled her eyes, readjusting the strap of her purse as she made a show of checking for her house key and her phone. “It’s a work thing, okay? No new developments on that thing we talked about that one time, ever.”

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” Yan was doing her terrible impression of an English accent. The one that had her almost kicked out of a bar on New Year’s Eve a few years ago when she drunkenly tormented a poor man who had tried to ask her out.

“Is she seriously keeping secrets from me?” Nic turned to Yan, nodding her head in Ellie’s direction. “Are you keeping secrets from me, your oldest friend? Is it about a dick? Is it about multiple dicks?” Nic’s tone was rising, along with her excitement when she turned back to Ellie.

“I hate you both.” Ellie flipped them off (lovingly) before she turned away, but not too soon to miss the wink Nic threw her way.

“Love you, too, my emotionally messy, disconnected, babe.”

“Practice safe sex! Don’t do anything my grandma wouldn’t do!” Yan’s voice floated to her, down the stairs, as Ellie headed for the door.

Even before she stepped out fully and closed the door behind her with a little too much force, Nic and Yan burst into feverish, hushed conversation.

She imagined Nic was already texting Bradley while Yan filled her in.

Yeah, runnin’ down a dream that never would come to me, workin’ on a mystery, goin’ wherever it leads, runnin’ down a dream

By the time Ellie made it to the Hard Deck and stepped inside, it was buzzing.

The warmth of bodies, the scent of salt and beer, the sound of Tom Petty crooning over the speakers—it was all overwhelmingly familiar, in the way a tv show picked out the nostalgia of a vague moment and made it matter, expounded. Ellie knew she didn’t belong here and yet... it all pulled her in.

Ellie had spent enough of her childhood in bars like this to know the rhythm of them—the sticky floors, the low hum of conversation layered beneath bursts of laughter, the clink of bottles meeting wood. Her dad used to bring her along sometimes, settling her at a corner table with a soda, a colouring book and a cup with pieces of broken crayons while he swapped stories with old squadron buddies. She’d watch them, the way they filled a room with their presence, loud and unshakable, carrying the weight of the sky on their shoulders like it was nothing. Back then, she hadn’t realized how much of that weight had been left unspoken. Now, years later, standing in the Hard Deck, just on the fringe, she wondered if she had inherited more of it than she ever meant to.

When she pulled into the parking lot, the neon lights of the sign above the door, a neon jet flickering to resemble an evasive maneuver, the light that spilled out from the windows and door coaxed her inside. Just one drink. Just one chat. Just one hour. When she pulled it out, the phone lodged in the cup holder read back 8:47 PM. One hour.

It didn’t take long for her presence to be noticed.

“Rigsy!”

She barely had time to react before Rooster was there, his face lighting up in genuine surprise. He had a beer in one hand as he jabbed a finger into her shoulder, as if he wanted to make sure she was really there.

“You actually showed up,” his grin was easy, tinged by something Ellie could place as a look of victory. “Thought you were going to bail.”

Ellie laughed, shifting her weight onto one foot, her eyes scanning the crowd to look for other faces she might recognize. If she was going to be here, she wanted to make sure she was seen.

“Trust me, I almost did.” She left out the part where “almost did” meant that she had turned around two sets of traffic lights before she got here but had taken a wrong turn and had ended up back on the right path, somehow.

Rooster chuckled, nudging her shoulder with his. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t.” He nodded toward the bar at the center of the room before they started walking, “First round’s on me.”

Before she could answer, someone across the bar called his name, and Rooster turned toward them, already halfway through an apology. “Give me one minute, okay? Stay put.”

Ellie sighed, tugging at her jacket as she watched Rooster disappear into the crowd, before she approached the bar. She’d just reached a space in the line of chairs already occupied by some ground crew and a pilot or two when she heard it, the unmistakable drawl.

“Well, well, well.”

Ellie hated how she could feel her pulse uptick slightly, her suddenly racing heart telling her who it would be before she turned to look.

“As I live and breathe...”

Ellie turned just as Jake slipped in beside her, leaning against the bar, an insufferable half-smile playing at his lips. Yet, it churned her stomach in a way she didn’t want to give too much attention.

There was a clink of a glass on the bar and the scrape of coaster as he slid a drink toward her—whiskey, neat.

“For almost breaking your fancy tech,” he said, smirking as she frowned down into the glass of amber. “You’re welcome.”

Ellie’s laugh was dry, humourless, as she pushed the glass back toward him. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“C’mon, Rigby.” He nudged it right back in her direction. “You still sour about earlier?”

She leveled him with a look, but she could tell he was undeterred, watching her like he had her all figured out. “Not sure sour’s the right word...”

The ache in her jaw that persisted from this afternoon after she’d gone over the test flight data with Mav told her there was a stronger word to describe how she felt. She just hadn’t settled on it yet.

Jake took a slow sip rolling it over his tongue like he had all the time in the world. “Listen, I get it—you like control.” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the light catch in it before leveling her with a knowing smirk. “But you can’t build a game-changer and expect us not to take it for a joyride.”

Ellie scoffed. “You mean break it?”

His grin only deepened, his eyes dancing as he took his time, tasted his whiskey and set it back down. “Test it.”

She let out a measured breath, trying not to let the annoyance coil too tightly inside her. “There were parameters, you just—” Ellie started, standing up straight now, her body turned toward him.

Despite telling herself she shouldn’t, she could feel the heat rising inside of her, almost beyond her control.

Instead, she stopped herself, taking one look at the peace offering on the bar before she grabbed it and took a swig. This was what he wanted, to get a rise out of her. If she was going to stay at the Hard Deck for longer than half a minute, she might as well have a bit of help.

“It wasn’t ready for a stress test.”

Jake’s lips twisted into something triumphant. “See, that right there—” he paused, pointing at her around the grip of the whiskey in his hand, “that’s why you need me.”

Ellie braced against the burn of the whiskey as she drained the last of the drink, her glass coming back down on the bar top. She was waving Penny over for another before she cleared her throat around the burn, “I don’t need you, Seresin.”

He chuckled, leaning against the bar now, offering a nod and smile to Penny as she slid another whiskey across to Ellie. “Sure you don’t. Keep telling yourself that if it helps you get off to sleep at night, Ace.”

Ellie shot him a sharp look, her green eyes locking onto his.

The air between them crackled—charged and unrelenting.

Somewhere across the bar, she felt Rooster’s gaze on them, like he was waiting to see who would break first.

But it wasn’t Rooster that put Ellie on edge.

The way Jake was watching her, like he saw her. Like he knew exactly what she was trying to do—what she was trying not to feel.

Ellie’s grip on her glass tightened. She would need to make some tactical adjustments, fortify her walls.

Jake tilted his head, considering her for a beat before he spoke again. “Listen, we can keep this up all night, or we can put this to bed.”

Ellie arched a brow as she studied Hangman. He lounged against the bar, his smirk just toeing the line between charming and insufferable.

“And by this you mean...?” She motioned between them, as if she dared him to put a name to it.

“A game.”

“Let me get this straight,” she said after a moment, fingers drumming lightly against the glass. “You think beating you at—” Ellie glanced around, spotting a few guys throwing darts and a group of others hanging around lazily at a pool table nearby.

“—pool.” Hangman supplied.

“You think my beating you at pool is going to settle things between us?”

Hangman grinned, like the answer was obvious.

“Seein’ as how you were practically fuming earlier about me pushing your tech. Thought I’d give you a shot at knocking me down a peg—publicly, no less. Even the score a little.” He leaned in, his voice smooth, assured. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid you can’t beat me.”

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Not in my nature,” Hangman said easily, flashing that signature smug smile of his. “But hey, if you win, I’ll admit you’ve got me beat—at least in one thing.”

The laugh that escaped her lips was sharp, incredulous. Yet, she couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. “Not sure your ego is ready for me to wipe the floor with you.”

Jake let out an easy, unbothered laugh, shaking his head. “That’s a bold assumption, darlin’. I like it.”

Ellie paused for a moment, studying the way his lips curved, the dimples ghosting his cheeks. “What’s in it for you? You know, if by some miracle you manage to win?”

Jake took a deep, even breath, looking away as he took a steady sip before he turned back to her, almost too quickly, as if he’d already decided the stakes before Ellie had asked. Still, he played it off with a shrug, nonchalant. “Let’s say... you owe me a favour, just for the fun of it.”

Ellie arched a brow, arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against the edge of the bar. “A favour?” she repeated, slowly, not bothering to hide her skepticism. Somehow, she didn’t trust that owing Jake Seresin a favour was just for the fun of it. “That's frighteningly vague.”

Jake’s grin widened. Ellie imagined if Jake ever scratched out in his career as the top aviator in the Navy, he’d easily slip into the role of Salesman of the Year in perpetuity at some dusty used car lot somewhere between here and Nevada. “That’s the beauty of it. Leaves room for... creativity.”

She knew how creative he was.

Exhaling in a noisy huff, Ellie was already shaking her head. “Right. And I’m just supposed to trust that whatever favour you come up with isn’t some underhanded ploy to stroke your own ego?”

“Guess you’re just gonna have to trust me then, won’t you?” Jake clicked his tongue, before he pressed a hand over his heart, “on my word as a good Southern gentleman. Or do you think so little of me?” His face was all mocked offense; if he had pearls, Ellie was sure he’d be clutching at them for effect.

Ellie snorted. “Oh, I think exactly the right amount of you.”

For a moment in time, standing in front of him, she forgot how angry he’d made her; how hot her face was as she stormed across the tarmac, a shark sensing blood in the water. Single-minded, ready to rip into him. It was so easy with him, she’d noticed, to slip into the fun and light banter that made her lose focus.

His chuckle was low, amused. “Well, since you’re worried, I’ll make it fair. If you win, I owe you a favour.”

Ellie exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders back as she turned her whiskey glass between her fingers. Rooster’s words from earlier echoed in her mind— he’s testing you just as much as he’s testing the system. You want to keep him in check? Show him you can handle him. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, brushing him off with an eye roll, but now, with Jake standing in front of her, all cocky confidence and insufferable smirk, she felt the weight of the challenge settle in her chest.

She could handle him.

Wiping that smirk off his face would be worth it. Proving she could do this, that she could go toe-to-toe with Hangman and come out on top—that was worth it. And now, with the added twist of a wager—a favor to be cashed in—there was something even more intriguing about the game. Jake played to win, but so did she.

If she was going to be here, if she was going to put up with his nonsense, she might as well get something out of it.

She let the silence stretch just long enough to make him wonder before setting her drink down decisively and pushed off the bar, already making her way to the table.

“Alright, Hangman,” she called over her shoulder. “Let’s see if you’re as good with a pool cue as you are at running your mouth.”

When he reached the table, already moving to grab a cue stick, Jake’s grin was wolfish. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.”

Ellie was shrugging off her leather jacket and tossing it to a nearby stool, when Rooster returned with the beer he’d promised. She watched as he carefully took in the situation, looking for context clues for only a moment before he spoke up. “What are you doing?”

“I need more—” Ellie started, rolling her shoulders, and shaking her arms in wide, exaggerated movements, as if it were obvious, “—mobility.”

Rooster rolled his eyes, “I see that. I mean, what are you doing.” Ellie followed his gaze to Jake, who was lining up the triangle with laser focus.

When she caught herself staring for a beat too long, she turned back, a shrug on her shoulders, taking the bottle. “You told me to show him I could handle him, right?” Ellie motioned toward the table again as if her plan was clear.

Rooster narrowed his eyes, taking a slow pull of his drink as if he were mulling over his words. “Right. And how does playing pool with Hangman accomplish that?”

Ellie smirked over the rim of her bottle. “It’s a start, right?”

He let out a short huff, glancing toward the table where Jake was still lining up the racked balls with the kind of focus usually reserved for landing a jet on a pitching carrier deck. When Rooster turned back to Ellie, suspicion creeping into his expression, his voice was cautious, “what are the stakes?”

Ellie swirled the beer in her hand, feigning nonchalance. “Just a little wager. Not even that big of a deal.”

Rooster’s gaze sharpened. “Ellie,” he warned, stretching her name out like he already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. “What did you bet?”

She shook her head, waving a hand dismissively, the picture of a kind of casual confidence she wasn’t sure she had a firm grip on. “When I win, he owes me a favour.”

Rooster nodded slowly, lips pursing. He looked like a mom listening to a kid’s genius plan to build a backyard rollercoaster—nothing but duct tape and optimism. Encouraging. Skeptical. “And if he wins?”

Ellie hesitated and when Rooster’s brows shot up, comically high, she knew she’d paused just a fraction too long.

“Ellie—”

“—I owe him a favour,” she admitted, finally meeting his gaze. Though, she suspected Rooster already guessed as much by the way he was looking at her right now, unblinking and gaze set at the 100-yard mode.

Rooster blinked after a stretch, then groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You really let Hangman name the stakes?”

“Relax, Rooster,” she said, bumping his arm lightly. “It’s just a game. Don’t be such a mother hen. I’m good at this.”

He looked at her like she had just announced she was about to arm-wrestle a shark; climb Everest without oxygen; walk barefoot across a floor littered with broken glass and rusty nails. “Yeah, except you know he’s gonna milk this for all it’s worth if he wins.”

Ellie exhaled—she’d already considered the possibility, contemplated that if she underestimated him and lost, the favour she owed Jake wouldn’t be one she’d like. Still, she shrugged it off. “Good thing I don’t plan on losing.”

Rooster muttered something under his breath about people who made reckless bets with smug pilots, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he clinked his beer bottle against hers. “Then you better wipe the floor with him.”

Ellie grinned. “That’s the idea.”

Rooster stepped up to the table as Jake removed the triangle, and disappeared from her line of vision, “if you’re breaking first, you’re going to want to—”

The sound of a new song, loud and tune distinctive started overhead and both she and Rooster paused to look up.

On the day I was born, the nurses all gathered 'round, and they gazed in wide wonder, at the joy they had found—

Jake stood at the jukebox, grinning like he’d just won a jackpot. A tap on the machine—his lucky charm—then he turned, locking onto Ellie as he strolled back.

The head nurse spoke up, Said, “Leave this one alone,” She could tell right away, That I was bad to the bone

“Really?” she scoffed, stepping up to grab a cue from the rack on the wall behind him before she rolled her eyes.

“Just setting the tone,” He took the Budweiser another pilot Ellie recognized as Lt. Javy “Coyote” Machado handed him and slowly took a sip, watching her steadily.

“Yeah? And what tone is that?”

Jake grinned, leaning a little closer like he was about to let her in on a secret. “That’s for you to decide.” He twisted his wrist, producing the cue ball and holding it out to her.

Rooster snorted across the table. “Jesus, Seresin.”

Coyote crossed his arms, smirking. “I got twenty bucks that says Hangman wins this one.”

“Just twenty?” Phoenix stepped up beside Rooster as Ellie plucked the ball from Jake’s hand. “Doesn’t sound like you have much faith in Bagman. I’ll put fifty on my new best friend embarrassing him.” Jake sucked his teeth as he picked up a cue of his own. “Trace, you wound me.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Anyone else want to bet against me?” At a nearby high-top, Fanboy snorted, shaking his head, and Bob half-raised his hand.

“You all really think she can take me?”

Phoenix was already handing the bill to Coyote. Bob shifted on his stool, pulling out his wallet. “I think she’s about to embarrass you, and I, for one, am here for it.”

Jake turned back to Ellie, leaning against his cue stick. “Alright then, Rigby. Let’s give the people what they want.”

“No time like the present.”

“Ladies first,” his smirk remained firmly in place.

Ellie’s eyebrow quirked momentarily before she took a steadying breath and placed the cue ball on the table. She took her time chalking her cue as she studied, already quietly calculating angles, but her mind drifted for a moment.

Wolfman had never let her win at anything, especially not pool. Neither had Slider or her dad.

Not once.

Between the three of them, she’d managed a grand total of two victories her entire life—one when Wolfman had been three drinks deep and too cocky for his own good, another when Slider had been too distracted trash-talking Mav to notice her creeping ahead.

It used to piss her off, losing over and over, until she started playing against other people and realized—oh. They’d been making her better. Pushing her. Every loss sharpening her instincts, every taunt stoking the fire in her belly.

She planted her feet and lined up the shot. A clean stroke sent the cue ball crashing into the rack. The triangle shattered, and a striped ball dropped into the side pocket. She shifted position and sank another.

Her next shot nudged a solid away from an easy pocket.

Offense and defense go hand in hand, little Neven, Slider used to say, knocking her perfectly lined-up shots out of play. Focus too much on scoring, and you’ll hand your opponent the game.

Jake let out a low whistle. But she saw it—the way his eyes flickered across the table, already calculating. A moment later, he lined up and sank two shots before missing his third.

He straightened, offering her a slow, knowing wink. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Ellie exhaled sharply through her nose. Not getting in my head, Seresin. She met his gaze, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Hangman.”

The second she bent at the waist, lining up her shot, she felt it—the shift in him.

Jake was moving around the table in a lazy orbit, slow and sure. She could feel his eyes on her and the heat creeping up her body. He’d clearly taken it as a personal challenge to wedge himself inside of her, any way he could.

It wasn’t innocent. She knew it. Just like she knew what he was doing every time he called her Ace, when he’d sipped her coffee without asking, locking eyes like he was daring her to stop him. He was playing a game only they knew, moving to a beat only they could feel.

As he approached, the brush of his gaze passed over her back where she could feel the gap between the hem of her tank, down the lines of her legs where her jeans hugged against her curves. She felt his gaze lingering somewhere decidedly publicly inappropriate before sliding back up. It was almost clinical, in that maddening way Ellie associated with him—assessing, measuring, like he was waiting to see if she’d react, waiting to see how far he could push her.

Yet knowing what he was doing didn’t stop her from having to fight the feelings he kicked up; a growing heat coiling low in her abdomen, the fuzzy feeling that licked at the edges of her reasoning thoughts of him filling her mind like confetti snowing down from the rafters of her subconscious.

Welcome to Masterclass, meet Jake Seresin. Today, he will be teaching you how to make your knees weak and think about his mouth way too much.

She took a breath, pushing the distraction aside, sweeping away the shredded paper littering her thoughts, focusing on the shot. Just her, the cue ball, and—

“Christ, Hangman, stop hovering. It’s cheating.”

Rooster’s voice cut through her barely collected concentration, scattering her thoughts like a strong wind against a pile of raked leaves.

Ellie let out a sharp exhale, straightening just as an argument kicked off to her left.

“Cheating? You think I’m using some kinda—what—telepathic distraction?” Jake scoffed, feigning offense as he leaned against his cue stick like he was above it all. “C’mon Rooster... have a bit of faith in your girl, here.”

Rooster wasn’t buying it. “You’re trying to distract her on purpose. It’s a cheap move.”

“Oh, please,” Jake snorted, rolling his eyes. “She’s not some rookie who’s gonna crack just ‘cause I happen to exist near the table.”

“Nah. You happen to exist near her, not just the table,” Fanboy cut in, joining the fray, shaking his head animatedly. He was stepping in close to Jake now, invading his personal space, before stepping back and pointedly repeating his close step, “See, there’s a huge difference. You're hovering like a damn vulture while she’s trying to get a read on the shot.”

Jake sighed as he leaned against his cue stick, but Ellie could hear the smile behind his voice, the look of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar passing over his face. “That’s slander.”

“It’s not slander if it’s accurate,” Rooster shot back.

“There’s no rule against existing around the table.” Coyote cut in, waving his hands from where he sat, “completely unbiased opinion, here.”

“Oh sure,” Phoenix scoffed, “it’s got nothing to do with the fact you bet a clean $150 on your buddy here?”

Ellie dragged a hand down her face, shaking her head, while the peanut gallery continued their debate over whether Hangman’s presence alone constituted cheating.

“You’re all giving me a headache,” she muttered, grabbing her beer, taking a sip and advantage of the well-timed break from her thoughts before shifting her focus back to the table.

Jake, undeterred, leaned in just a fraction, voice dropping low enough for only her to hear. “You know, Rigby,” he murmured, eyes still gleaming with mischief, “if I am a distraction... you could always return the favour.”

Over his words, Ellie could hear the argument ignited anew with Fanboy shouting “See!” and Coyote reaffirming, phone gripped in his hand, that there was not a rule on proximity between players.

Ellie didn’t look at him, instead she reset her stance, her gaze refocused on the shot, but she couldn’t fight the shiver that rolled through her. His chuckle told her he’d seen.

In response, she adjusted her shot quickly, pulled back—this time purposefully ramming her elbow into his ribs with enough force to make him grunt. She felt the slight recoil of his body, the subtle flinch, and the way his breath hitched for just a second before he recovered.

A smile threatened to crack her lips, but she bit it back, following through with her shot and sinking the striped ball into the far corner pocket without hesitation.

When she stood again, he was rubbing his ribs, a quiet laugh escaping him as he straightened. “Well,” he drawled. “Didn’t know we were playing dirty.”

Ellie smirked, slow and victorious. “Guess you’re learning something new about me, then. Let’s call it a tactical adjustment.”

The game had taken longer than Ellie had anticipated. She’d missed more shots than she cared to think about, but to her surprise, Jake wasn’t faring much better.

The bets had stopped rolling in closer to the middle of the game, but occasionally, someone dared to add to the pot.

Dutifully, Coyote announced the amount had hit $532. Since, there hadn’t been much chatter, just groans and murmurs when shots were taken and cheers when the person the gathered crowd bet to win sunk balls.

Early, Ellie had pulled ahead. Jake hadn’t let her keep the lead for long though. His smart aleck remarks had died down when he settled into the competitive nature between them, his brow furrowed as he lined up shots, so he resembled more of the man in the photo on his personnel file.

Jake’s eyes tracked her. He brushed against her arm—light, deliberate. The contact crackled.

Ellie swallowed. “You’re in my way, Hangman.”

He smirked, unbothered.

Now, Ellie stared down the eight ball as she lapped the table for a second time. The music played in the background as she took a slow breath, forcing herself to block out the noise of the bar.

One shot.

That’s all it would take.

One shot and she’d have him beat.

Halfway through her second pass she stopped, settling on the angle square in front of Jake. Rolling the chalk in her palm before she tipped it over the cue, Ellie let the practiced motion bring her an iota of calm before she moved into position.

In that moment, her eyes beginning to focus on the ball and the far pocket she wanted to send it into, Ellie felt the air shift, just slightly.

The scrape of a chair in the relatively quietened bar was easy to hear. Heavy boots on the floorboards. Then—

“Careful now, Rigby. Hate to see you choke when the stakes are high.”

Ellie’s grip tightened on the cue stick. She didn’t have to look up to recognize the voice—the easy drawl carried the kind of casual arrogance that made her skin crawl, barely veiled behind a Virginian twang.

She stood just in time to see Teak shoulder his way to the front of the crowd gathered around the table. He wasn’t looking at her, not directly—his attention drifting lazily around the bar, like he had only just now taken notice of the game, like he wasn’t deliberately disrupting her focus when she just about had the game in the bag.

“Course,” he added, finally flicking his gaze to Jake, who had taken up a relaxed posture near Coyote, arms folded across his chest. “I guess Hangman here don’t mind putting on a show. Get that pot nice and fat.”

Ellie could feel the stiffness in her shoulders. Teak’s words were light, almost offhanded, as if it were a second thought, but she could hear what was really being said beneath them. The implication that Jake was letting her think she could win just to make a spectacle.

Jake, to his credit, barely reacted. He let out a small, amused hum and tilted his head toward Teak. At his side, Coyote was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“Appreciate the concern, Hughes,” Jake said easily, his response coming quickly. “But I gotta tell you—if I was throwing the game, I’d have done a better job losing.”

A few people in the crowd chuckled. Teak’s mouth twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but he let out a short breath and pushed off from the high-top table he’d been leaning against.

“Ignore him,” Rooster shifted, his eyes sliding over to Teak for only a moment. If she were a boxer Ellie imagined that he might have pulled out a small stool, a dampened rag and patted her forehead, handing her a water bottle. “He’s looking to stir shit up.”

She was trying, but she could feel Teak’s smirk, the weight of his stare, waiting for the moment she’d fold, flinch. Teak was every high school bully with something to prove, someone to put down.

Ellie nodded at Rooster before turning back toward the table. Carefully, she set her stance. Blocked Teak out. Focused.

One shot.

She aimed. The eight ball caught the light overhead, and Ellie pulled her cue back. As the stick slid forward in her hand, smooth and sure, the cue ball cracked against the eight ball aimed for the corner pocket—

—and just nudged the edge of the pocket before rolling away.

A miss, by just a breadth.

The noise that followed was immediate. A mix of groans and murmurs, a few low whistles, some hisses. Someone muttered “damn” under their breath.

Ellie straightened; her eyes locked on the corner pocket where the ball had veered just off course by a fraction. She didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

She inhaled, slow and steady, forcing the heat of her frustration down before it could rise to the surface. Losing was part of the game. She’d learned to take it in stride, to tip her head and say good game like it didn’t matter, like it didn’t sink its teeth in and linger. But no matter how many times she’d lost before, she couldn’t remember the last time it felt like this.

Still, she wouldn’t give Teak the pleasure of showing it.

Jake stepped forward, lined up his shot, and sank it without hesitation—no mistake.

A clean win.

He straightened, rolling his shoulders loose, and this time, when his gaze found hers, there was only the quiet satisfaction of a victory earned.

Ellie met his eyes, then gave him a sharp nod, a tight smile. “Good game, Seresin.”

She turned and passed her cue to Rooster, then reached for the last sip of her beer. Only then did she let her fingers tighten slightly around the bottle, let herself take a steadying breath. She didn’t need to look at Teak. Didn’t need to see whatever smug amusement he was probably wearing like a second skin. Ellie would let him think what he wanted, btu she wouldn’t give him the reaction he was hoping for.

As Ellie set the empty bottle down, Phoenix clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Hell of a game, Rigby,” she said, giving her a small shake.

Bob nodded in agreement, offering her an encouraging smile, his large-framed glasses magnifying the sincerity in his eyes. “You had him sweating there for a second.”

Fanboy, always one to keep things light, grinned. “Pretty sure half the bar was rooting for you. Next time, make him work for it a little more, yeah?”

Ellie huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head before she turned back to Jake. “Guess that means I owe you a drink.”

Jake smirked, stepping aside to let her pass. “Careful now. I might start thinking you actually like me.”

Ellie didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply, just rolled her eyes and started toward the bar, weaving through the lingering crowd. It wasn’t until she reached the counter, resting her elbows on the polished wood, that she allowed herself to breathe.

She could feel it still—Teak’s words, the weight of his presence, the way they clung like a shadow even now.

But he wouldn’t see that. Not if she could help it.

Some of the crowd had drifted toward the pool tables, others toward the booths lining the far side of the room now that the game was over. Ellie waved at the bartender, signaling for two drinks before she leaned against the bar, her elbows braced against the polished wood.

She could still feel the annoyance blistering just under the surface. Not at losing—she could handle that—but at missing. At letting Teak get under her skin with only a few words, both said and unsaid.

She felt the brush of leather on her arm as someone moved to stand beside her and before she turned her head, she knew.

“Not going to lie. Thought you’d take off after that embarrassing miss,” Teak drawled, his tone smug. “Figured you’d be licking your wounds somewhere quiet.”

Ellie didn’t move to give him more space, accepting a glass of whiskey as Penny slid two across to her. “Still here. Guess that means I'm tougher than you thought.”

Some small, smug part of her wanted to tell Teak that he wasn’t as intimidating as he thought he was. She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t the first pilot to try to make her feel like she was an outsider, a woman in a man’s world. She wanted so badly to tell him that if he was trying to push her out, he’d have to try harder. Instead, she kept quiet, took a sip of her whiskey and bit the inside of her cheeks.

Teak huffed a laugh, leaning in, his elbow sliding across the bar to nudge hers, jostling the glass in her grip slightly. “Or maybe just too stubborn to take the hint.”

Ellie turned to face him before she could stop herself, leveling him with a stare. “That supposed to mean something?”

“Only that some people don’t know when they’re outmatched.” He gave her a smirk, his eyes flicking down, lingering just a beat too long and then finding their way back to lock onto hers. “But hey, I like that in a woman.”

Ellie’s fingers tightened around her glass, but she kept her expression neutral.

If ick were a person, she was certain it would be Teak.

“Good for you,” she said flatly, shaking her head as if trying to ask if his criteria for a woman he would be interested in was supposed to mean something to her.

Teak ignored the disinterest in her voice and pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill from his pocket, sliding it across the bar toward her.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Here, for the drink. Consider it a consolation prize.”

Ellie barely spared it a glance before pushing it back toward him stiffly. “I don’t take handouts. Thanks.”

Teak chuckled, slow and self-satisfied, before flicking the bill right back at her, the bill fluttered momentarily, landing on her forearm. “Keep it, sweetheart. I insist. Buy yourself something pretty. Might make losing a little easier to swallow.”

She had already turned to face Teak, her whole body shifting as her skin prickled, heart beat loud in her ears, before she knew what she was doing. She had just opened her mouth to speak when a firm clap landed on Teak’s shoulder.

Jake.

Ellie stared Teak down, unblinking as Jake shook Teak slightly, his vibe decidedly buddy-buddy. She hated to admit it, but his presence alone was a relief, a splash of cold water on a hot surface.

“Don’t think you’ll have much luck with Rigby, Hughes,” Jake said, his voice easy, like the set of his shoulders didn’t suggest he was already gearing up to yank Teak away from the bar by the scruff of his leather jacket. Jake’s eyes flicked up to catch Ellie’s and it was enough to shake her out of her murderous trance. “I’ve been tryin’ all week.”

Teak let out a laugh, though it sounded forced. “That right? Guess I’ll leave it to you then.” He slid away from the bar, tossing a glance between Ellie and Jake before he added, almost as an afterthought, a swipe. “Taming of the shrew and all that. Good luck, Seresin.”

She’d already turned back to the bar, sliding the second whiskey over to the spot Teak had vacated, when Jake slipped in beside her, shoulder to shoulder.

“Surprised you know enough about Shakespeare to reference it,” she said, only a murmur, mostly under her breath and into her glass.

Jake let out a low chuckle, tossing a look over his shoulder. “I don’t think he heard that, Ace,” he said, picking up his glass. “You’d better call him back over so he can take his insult like a man.”

Ellie shot him a dry look. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

After a beat of silence, Ellie pushed the crisp hundred-dollar bill toward him. “I think that’s yours,” she said.

Jake glanced at it, then at her, one brow ticking up. A slow smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“You trying to pay me off, Rigby?”

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. “Not a chance,” she said, then tilted her head, considering. “Besides, I think it’d take more than that to make you forget I owe you a favour now.”

Jake let out a small chuckle, taking the bill and, without hesitation, stuffed it straight into the tip jar behind the bar. The bartender, catching the movement, shot him a surprised look, but Jake just lifted his drink in acknowledgment.

Ellie rolled her eyes, lifting her own glass.

“Show-off,” she muttered, struggling to keep the smirk off her lips.

Jake grinned. “Always.”

After a beat, Jake broke the silence.

“Thought you were supposed to wipe the floor with me?”

“I think both you and I know that I would have.” Ellie raised her eyebrow at him, shaking her head. “If it wasn’t for Teak. You set something up with him earlier?”

Jake only shrugged, a smirk on his lips as he set his glass down. “Still won, you know.”

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head as she stepped up to the bar. “I almost had you.”

Jake’s grin widened, slow and infuriating. “A win is a win. You know what they say about almosts—horseshoes and hand grenades, Rigby.”

Ellie shook her head, but she couldn’t quite stop the amused huff that slipped out. “You would say that.”

“Damn right, I would.”

She let her eyes flick over to the pool table, where her cue stick rested against the edge before Bob gathered it up and Phoenix set the table for a new game. “You got lucky. Next time, I’m not going to let you distract me.”

Jake lifted a brow, the waves of confidence that rolled off of him almost contagious. “Darlin’, if I distracted you, that sounds like a you problem.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, turning back toward the bar. “I think I’ll need another drink if I’m going to keep listening to all this trash-talk.”

Jake laughed, low and pleased, as she raised a hand to signal Penny—

Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her jacket and without thinking, fished it out.

She barely glanced down before she saw the contact’s name, glowing stark against the dark screen.

Dad.

The name on the screen was small, unassuming. But it hit her like a gut punch.

The small ease she’d allowed herself—the quiet space she’d let herself slip into, without pressure, without expectancies, the one where she was just Ellie, and this was just a bar with co-workers—collapsed in an instant.

Reality came rushing back in, sharp-edged and relentless, filling the space where her ease had been like cold water flooding from a broken dam.

The music faded. The laughter blurred. The warmth of the Hard Deck, the press of bodies, the lingering, teasing glances from Hangman—all of it dimmed beneath the weight of that name.

Ellie let the call ring out, her eyes still stuck on the screen that blinked up at her from her hand. It rang twice more before the screen went dark. Her fingers curled subtly against the bar, a small anchor, a way to keep herself here instead of wherever that call wanted to pull her.

It wasn’t the first time she’d let it go to voicemail. Wouldn’t be the last.

She exhaled slowly, blinking hard, forcing herself to shake it off. But she had the sense that Jake noticed. His silence was enough to tell her as much.

That for all his cocky, easygoing bravado, he was sharper than most gave him credit for. That he saw something shift in her, saw the tension lock into place where ease had been just moments before.

But he didn’t say a word.

Didn’t ask.

Didn’t push.

The silence between them stretched, taut but unspoken. She could still feel the phone in her hand, the phantom weight of it even after she slipped it into her pocket.

She reached for her jacket, shaking it out, slipping it on with steady hands that she wasn’t sure felt as steady as they looked.

“Calling it a night?” Jake’s voice was light, but his gaze wasn’t.

She nodded, already stepping away. “Yeah. See you around, Hangman.”

She didn’t wait for his response.

Didn’t look back.

She just stepped out into the cool night air, inhaled deep, and let the door swing shut behind her—like that could keep the past from following her outside.

a/n: i have protective jake kink. ask me how much i fucking love him sticking it to teak subtly. also, i can't wait to write out the next few chapters. so so much planned.

if you love this series, reblog, comment, like!

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@obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3

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@whatislovevavy @qutequeersstuff @tgmreader @writergirl28 @literal-tv-menace

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btnclmrttn · 1 year ago

Note

could I request Saitama, Genos, and Garou with a fem playful/bratty reader? Someone who sort of likes to poke fun at them and give them a hard time/be difficult just to get a reaction out of them (sometimes by being stubborn, sometimes by being really flirty 👀)

(A grand idea! I appreciate your patience with my lack of request answers. I hope I made it worth your wait!)

Saitama

- Going off how he reacts to someone like Tatsumaki, he likely wouldn't take you that seriously if you were giving him a hard time for the hell of it. Nothing against you it's just his unbothered attitude he holds for life

-It doesn't mean he isn't listening, though. It can amuse him if you go the extra mile just to be difficult. Or annoying if he's having a bad day, but it takes a lot of inconveniences in his day to where he actually gets a bit irritated

- When he's on his last straw he'll just start silently bugging you. He won't say anything as he starts poking you or messing with you and your things as a diversion.

- If you're being flirty instead of bull-headed, he's got a look he gives you. Like he's trying to look unamused and isn't convincing enough. The more you push it, the more shades of red layer on his face. He can't get used to it, or much bothered by it.

Genos

- Least bothered of the three. Couldn't get any sort of annoyed reaction if that's what you're looking for, but confusion might be one occasionally.

-Your dedication to being stubborn intrigues him as it can come off as unnecessary in his eyes. If there's something you want, he'd just give it to you if you ask straight up, typically.

- Far from arguing against it though. Even if he doesn't understand it, sometimes it's what makes you out to be the person he loves, so he will entertain your playful nature.

- Be careful with how much you want to be flirty, as if you say something just a bit too specific he'll just proceed to carry out the hint you drop as he registers it as just a request. Ain't that what you want though? ;D

Garou

- If you can take up this man in making the attitude a competition, may the odds be in your favor 😭

- Most of the time, he can give it right back to you. You poking fun at him, he's getting his lick in too. Wanna be difficult? Answer to him also being difficult. Whether it's fighting your fire with his fire or he'll catch you the second you're a fool enough to be his peace for a minute

- Being like that could get you on each other's nerves or not really at all, though the latter is more likely. He's all for the playful nature you have. Doesn't make him feel not a damn bit bad either for when he's matching your energy

- Loves it when the bantering gets into flirty territory. Eggs you on to just keep at it. Asks you to elaborate on what you mean with a smug grin on his face. He knows what you're getting at, though. It's entertaining trying to see how your brattiness is in making you use your words

#opm #one punch man #opm x reader #saitama #saitama x reader #genos #genos x reader #garou #garou x reader

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fangirlstorycreator · 3 months ago

Text

Alastor X Reader:

Context: When you discover it's Alastor's birthday, you want to suprise him with a thoughtful gift. But would it be one he'd like? And how would he show his appreciation?

Part 1/2

Shouting, swearing and things being thrown and broken had just startled you awake after a terrible nights sleep. Just like every other morning in the hotel. Why did Angel and Husk always have to be at eachothers throats? Just once, you'd like to wake up normally, without being disturbed. But, it wasn't like your afterlife was easy, it was hell. Groaning as you sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes, still hearing Angel and Husk argue like an old married couple.

"Uugghh, please shut up you two"

This was the 5th time this week they'd done this. They didn't listen to Charlie when she asked them politely to stop, well, with your eye bags and pounding headache, they were about to be asked in a more aggressive tone. Once you were dressed, you made your way down the hallway, with a face like thunder, not wanting them to fuck up your sleep anymore. When you reached the top of the main staircase, you see Angel and Husk at the bar, Charlie desperately trying to calm them down, Vaggie struggling to get Nifty down from the curtains, and Alastor is sat on the sofa with Lucifer and Pentious.

"Angel, come on, let's just go for a walk huh?"

"Why the fuck would I wanna do that Charlie?! I ain't leavin till Whiskers hear says sorry to me!"

"I already told you! Don't call me Whiskers!"

"Then don't call me fake you stupid moth'a-"

"SHUT UP!!"

You scream down the staircase, making everyone go silent. The only ones who look slightly impressed are Alastor, Lucifer and Vaggie.

"For the love of god! You guys haven't let me get a decent night sleep all fucking week! I don't care what started this stupid little argument, but it's ending now! And I swear, if you wake me up with this stupid little war of yours one more time! I'll shove a vodca bottle so far up your asses, you'll be tasting it for a month!"

"There uh, there ain't no need to be like that toots-"

"Oh really Angel? There isn't? Tell that to my fucking headaches! You've both been asked by Charlie nicely to stop, but neither of you listened. Well now, your getting it from me! Both of you, grow the fuck up!"

".............I'm sorry toots"

"...Yeh...sorry"

Angel and Husk both say, embarrassed and unable to look you in the eye, Alastor and Vaggie just chuckle under their breath.

"Good. Now, I suggest you both make yourself useful and help Charlie by doing that project she wanted you both to help her with"

"Aww! But toots-"

"(Sturn look, raised eyebrow)"

"A'right, fine. C'mon Husk"

Charlie looks so relived, she mouths the words thank you before taking Angel and Husk to the activities room down the hall. When they leave, you exhale, rubbing at your temples walking to the bar, and grabbing a drink. In fear of you still being angry, Vaggie, Nifty and Pentious slip up the stairs. Alastor on the other hand, stands up from the sofa, leaving Lucifer and sitting on the bar stool infront of you.

"Bravo my dear! I am rather impressed. I won't deny, I came very close to doing something along those lines myself. But you beat me too it! And dare I say, in a much more entertaining fashion"

"Those two have been driving me crazy! Charlie's sweet, but those two need something more firm"

"I absolutely agree. I must say, it was quite possibly one of the most enjoyable moments I've experienced for quite some time. Even more entertaining than when Charlie's little father came along"

"Eh! I'm not little"

"Aha! You keep thinking that"

Lucifer scoffed, turning away and playing with a little yellow duck in a kings crown.

"I say my dear, you do look rather exhausted. Might a nap be beneficial to you?"

"I would if I could. Even when I was alive, no matter how hard I tried, I could never nap unless I was ill or on holiday"

"Well, why not imagine your on your holiday?"

"Alastor, have you seen where we are?"

"Hm, quite right. You have a point. Ah well, at least you mother'd those two imbesils into stopping their squabbles. They shouldn't make that same mistake again, not if they want to remain unharmed"

"I'm not usually like that. Just with a lack of sleep, I don't know what came over me"

"Worry not my dear, all of us hear know your not a spiteful or nasty person. In fact, since I've known you, I have often wondered on many occasions, why you ended up in hell rather than heaven"

"That's a story for another time Alastor"

"Of course, I wouldn't want to cross your boundaries. Ah! Would you look at the time, I must take my leave. I have a scheduled time to see my good friend Rosie. You remember Rosie don't you?"

"Yeh, the nice overlord from Cannibal Town"

"That's her. I'll tell her you said hello. I do hope you have a pleasant day my dear. (Kisses your hand) And Lucifer...eh..."

Alastor flips Lucifer the middle finger as he leaves, pissing him off, his horns slightly showing when his eyes glow red. They're relationship was just as bad as Angel and Husk.

"Just ignore him Lucifer, he just wants to get a rise out of you"

"Yeh, well it's fucking working. Hey? You mind grabbing me a drink?"

"Sure, what are you having?"

"Uuuuuuuumm? I'll have an old fashioned. Oh oh! And can you put it in a wide glass? I wanna float my little ducky in there"

You giggle at his cute request, he loved his ducks. After making him a drink, he sits next to you too, floating his little duck in the drink with a giddy smile and big shiny eyes.

"Hey, can I just say, Alastor wasn't the only one who liked the way you spoke to those two"

"I kind of guessed you did. Your eyes were darting back and forth between me an them. Like a child trying to listen in on a conversation he's not supposed to"

"Can you blame me? Other than the red asshole who lives hear, your the only sinner I've seen who has the balls to raise your voice in the hotel. And heck! I remember seeing you have a shouting match with that overlord Valentino a few months ago too!"

"Yeh, well, he hurt Angel. I'll always protect my friends"

"I know. We all know that. I think that's why those two listened to you when you scolded them. Your their friend, but you can be a stern mother figure if needed to be"

"That's so weird, both you and Alastor both said the word mother, I honestly never thought that word would be used to describe me"

"Well, it is now. I think this place needs a motherly figure. Even if it's to stop the everyday chaos that happens in this place. I mean, you remember when Charlie made that birthday celebration for Nifty?"

"Oh hell yeah, I remember. (shudder) Nifty's birthday was the definition of disaster"

"Yeh, thank golly that only happens once a year. But then, Charlie wants everyone to celebrate their birthday down hear, and that's probably gunna be even worse"

"Well, I doubt Husk won't try dousing his birthday cake in bleach like Nifty did. Isn't is Husk who has a birthday next?"

"Hm? I have no clue. The calendars behind the bar"

You grab the calendar behind the bar, flicking through it as you lean on the counter, Lucifer playing with his little duck as you read.

"Hm? That's interesting. Turns out the next person to have their birthday is Alastor"

"What?! Why do we have to celebrate HIM?! He's such an ass! Every single time he's hear, he always does something to piss me off!"

"Not everyone in hear hates him Lucifer. I know you and Husk do, it's understandable why Husk does, and with you, I think he just enjoys making you angry"

"Who the hell does like him then?!"

"Charlie does. Nifty, Angel enjoys trying to get a rise out of him sometimes. I like him too"

"Why?! He's a dick!"

"He's a dick to you. He hasn't behaved that way with me since we've met. If anything, he's been a real gentleman"

"Yeh, gentleman my ass!......Although, you do kind of have a point. I've seen him be nice to Charlie and Nifty, definitely more with you. You never know, he may have the hots for you. Don't fall for his bullshit if he does!!!"

"Lucifer, relax. You do know Alastor's Asexual right?"

"Huh?"

"He's not into sex"

"Not into!!-How the hell can someone not be into that?! Sex is awesome! I mean, me and Lilith back in the day, eheh, bow chick'a wow wow!"

"That's you Lucifer. Not everyone can like the same things"

"I just didn't know that about him. Right! I'm gunna tear him a new one about it!"

"No"

"What?!"

"Your not gunna do that"

"But why not?! I'm the king of hell! I can do whatever I like! Why-why'd you say no?"

"Think about it Lucifer. You'll be lowering yourself to his level"

"Oh shit, yeh"

"And your own daughter said this hotel is about bettering yourself. Don't copy Alastor's behaviour, rise above it. Have you ever heard of the phrase, kill them with kindness?"

"Well yeh, but how can-oooooooooohhh! I see what you mean!"

"Anytime he wants to make you angry, be positive. Because in failing to wind you up-"

"It'll drive HIM crazy! Yes! I love it! Thank you sweetie"

"Don't mention it. And, don't give him something condescending for his birthday either"

"Not even a duck in the shape of a big-"

"I know what your about to say, and it's a firm no"

"Nnuugghh ok. I'll....be nice to him or whatever"

"Good. Hey? Did I just hear your name?"

"Hm? Oh, I hear it too. Sounds like Charlie. I'll go see what she wants. See you later Y/N"

"See you Lucifer"

You can't help but chuckle, watching Lucifer jump down and dance towards the hallway, little duck in hand. Now it was just you, in blissful silence, ah it was wonderful. You knew it wouldn't last long, but it's nice to have it while you can. As you enjoy the peace, you look back at the calendar, seeing Alastor's name written on the page. You did wonder to yourself, what he would like, or even if he wants a gift? And his birthday was happening tomorrow, it was time to have a think. Later that afternoon, Alastor came back from his morning with Rosie, and saw you sitting on your own in the hotel lobby.

"Good afternoon my dear! How has the day been for you?"

"It's been nice thanks, Pentious and Nifty came through a few times, but everyone else seems to be busy doing their own things. How was Rosie?"

"Ah she was delightful, a lovely morning was had by all, haha! (Sits down next to you) What are you reading?"

"This? It's The Great Gatsby"

"Ah! I read that book before I died! I do believe it was published about 10 years before I ended up hear. It was a great read if I remember correctly"

"Did you know they made a film of it?"

"But of course! In 1926"

"Not just in 1926"

"I beg your pardon my dear?"

"Yep. They made it into a film two more times. The second time in 1949, and again in 2013"

"I say! One might think they would like to leave a classic alone once it's been put on the noisy electronic box. But they truly did it 3 times? I never witnessed any of them myself. The book shall be my only knowledge of the classic tale"

"To be honest, you weren't missing anything. I saw the latest film before I died, but I wasn't a fan. I much prefer the books"

"Aha! And that is why I truly enjoy your company my dear. Ahh, I sometimes believe you are the only person in this whole building whose company I genuinely like"

"Really?"

"Of course!"

"That's so sweet Alastor, thank you"

"Don't mention it. Actually, now that I have you hear for a moment, I did have a subject I wished to bring up with you"

"Oh? What's that"

"It's something I was waiting the right time for. More specifically, a time where none else was around to listen in on us. As you well know, I like to keep my life private, unless I choose to share it"

"I do"

"Well......as you are aware, aswell as a few of the sinners in this hotel....my....passions....desires.....they are not.....exactly the same, as everyone else. Case in point, my desires are almost on the opposite spectrum of someone like Angeldust"

"Yes. I remember when you told me about that"

"And while I do not enjoy or wish to take part in any form of sexual affection....it does not mean I retain from all forms of showing my appreciation. I don't know if you were aware, of me kissing your hand goodbye whenever I leave your company? And noticed that I do not do that with any other lady"

"I...may have noticed, yes"

"Well, that is my way of showing my affection to you. But there are times, I wish....I wish for your hand...to be your lips...."

"Alastor...I'm flattered"

"Thank you....but my question to you is....is this feeling...reciprocated?"

"(Blushing, tucking hair behind ear) It might be"

"My darling, if it pleases you, I would never much like to show you how much you mean to me. But as you know, being the radio demon and a powerful overlord hear in hell-"

"You'd rather keep what might happen between us, private"

"Indeed. But please understand when I say, it is not that I do not wish to be seen with you in public as my partner, I very much do. But if Vox or the other V's see you at my side as my partner, you may be at risk of being targeted by them, and you may be in danger because of me. I need to make sure I am strong enough to protect you against any of the V's"

"It's ok, I understand. To be honest, I'm not one of those people who loves to parade around the streets with a boyfriend. I'd rather spend my time with them, enjoying their company"

"Absolutely! But I promise you this, if this is something you wish to be a part of, we will walk hand in hand, side by side after a sensible amount of time. Once I know I am strong enough to take on and win against all the V's, I will not have to worry about your safety. Because your safety, my dear... is my highest priority"

"That's very considerate of you"

"(Chuckles lightly)"

Alastor's smile looks genuine right now, you can tell by how gentle his eyes were. Taking your hand, he places a kiss on the back like he always does.

"Alastor?"

"Hm?"

"I think you have a new target....don't you think?"

".....Aahh....my pleasure my dear"

Feeling his fingers delicately hold your chin, he looks deep into your eyes. Looking desperately at your lips, but lovingly into your eyes. He leans in closer, you can almost feel his lips, so close-"

"Hi guys!!"

You both sit back a little, a little spooked by Lucifer barging through the hotel doors, loud and proud.

"Whatcha both up to?"

"We were enjoying a peaceful conversation before you very rudely interrupted us! One might say, it was very inconsiderate to barge in on someone's conversation, without adequate reason"

"Ah get over yourself! This hotel's a free place! And my daughter runs it, so yeh! Hey hey Y/N! Wanna see the new little ducky I made today! Look look!"

Lucifer bounds over to you and Alastor, but only speaks and looks at you.

"Isn't he just adorable!!"

"Well, yes he is Lucifer. But uh? Why does he have a bottle of whiskey?"

"That's because I'm making little ducks of everyone in the hotel! It was Charlie's idea, but I like it! This one's the bartender"

"You mean Husk?"

"Oh! That's his name! I keep forgetting-"

"Excuse me! If you wouldn't mind, me and Y/N were actually in the middle of a rather important discussion"

"Oooooh! I'm so scared! What are you gunna do? Talk me to death?"

"Something like that can surely be arranged-"

Very quickly, you intervene, standing between them both when Alastor stood up, eyes darkening, and Lucifer smirking.

"Woh woh woh! That's enough! Both of you!"

"My dear, if he insists on causing an issue, I am in more than happy to deal with it"

"Awww! Is someone a little tetchy? Knowing your becoming an old man getting to you huh?"

"What?! How did you know I am to be-"

"It's on Charlie's calendar, dipshit!"

"That's it-"

Again, having to push them apart, this time, Alastor really looked like he was going to attack Lucifer.

"Alastor! Alastor look at me!"

You say calmly, taking his face in your hands, making him look at you.

"Look at me. Take a deep breath, in....and out...in....and out..."

If anyone else had asked him to do that, or touched his face, he'd push back. But because it was you, he didn't mind, and it was genuinely calming him down, even his eyes had changed back from black to red.

"That's it. Ok, we can finish our chat another time, but for now, why don't you just take some time to calm yourself in your radio station? You've told me thats your happy place. Please Alastor, please don't let this escalate anymore"

"........Alright my dear.......I'll take some time.....I shall see you soon"

His shadow engulfs him, sending him up the stairs and on his way to the radio station.

"Ah man, can you believe that guy? He gets so-"

"You know what Lucifer? I can't believe you!"

"Wait, what?"

"Didn't listen to a word I said today? About not lowering yourself to that level? Not doing to him what he does to you?"

"But I-"

"But nothing! You agreed to have a better attitude when your around Alastor and you've just thrown all of that out of the window!"

"I can argue with whomever I want Y/N! I'm the king of hell after all!"

"And your in this hotel to support YOUR daughter! Have you forgotten that? Stop acting like a child and at least try to make something work with Alastor"

"Why? Because you'll be disappointed?"

"Because this is Charlie's dream! You can't see how hard she's working to actually help people, and instead of doing what a father should be doing, your picking fights with Alastor! Stop acting so childish and help you daughter! I shouldn't have to tell you that!"

You can't talk to him anymore, and storm up the stairs.

"But Y/N wait! I...I AM trying to help Charlie"

"Then pack in whatever this is with Alastor, or at least try. Because it's going to be Charlie who's going to be affected. Just think about that"

Lucifer just stood there, frozen, feeling guilty, because he knew you had a point about Charlie and how hard she's been working to make this hotel what it is.

You on the other hand, slammed your bedroom door shut behind you, running your hands though your hair, headache pulsating in your head. This place would drive you insane some days. You throw yourself onto your bed, snuggling up with your pillow, wanting just 5 minutes of peace. But again, you lived in a hotel with many others. Three gentle knocks came to the door.

"Nngguuhh! Please go away....."

"(Muffled voice behind the door)....Toots? It's me. Can I come in?"

His voice sounded so innocent, sweet. Normally, Angel would be all proud, sometimes seductive with the way he spoke, but this sounded genuine.

"Yeh. Come in"

You say, sitting up on your bed, seeing Angel enter your room with a little smile.

"Hey. How yah doin?"

"I've been better. I just can't shift this headache"

"Well hear. (He says pulling out a packet of paracetamol) Maybe these will help?"

He sits down next to you on your bed, handing you the tablets.

"Thanks Angel"

"It's no problem. Hey uh...I just wanna say sorry for the way I've been actin recently. I dunno, I guess Husk just brings out that side of me. I swear, I didn't know I was wakin yah up"

"It's fine Angel. I feel like I should say sorry too for the way I spoke to you and Husk"

"Oh no no toots! What you did was great!"

"Wait, seriously?"

"Hell yeh! Me and Husk both said it was like a moth'a tellin off her kids! And I think we both needed that. Honestly toots, you didn't do nothin wrong"

"Ok, that's a worry off my mind"

"Can I uh.....can I share somethin with yah?"

"Of course"

"Having someone moth'a me like that.....I actually liked it. Not cuz I'm into strong, independent women, well, I am but that's not the reason. Since I died, I hadn't really had that feelin of being around family, and well......my moth'a used to keep me and my sister from having fights like that too.....you kinda.....remind me of my mom"

"....I do?"

"Yeh....and it's nice. It feels like with you, I've got part of my family down hear that cares about me. I know that's probably stupid of me to say-"

"Angel. That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I feel honoured that you see me like that"

"(Sighing in relief) I'm glad toots. Thanks, for everything"

"Come hear"

You and Angel share a sweet and tight hug, all 8 of his arms held you.

"I'll always be hear for you Angel"

"So will I toots, I promise"

A good 20 minutes had passed, just chatting with Angel in your room. Talking about the afterlife, his fights with Husk, and you take some paracetamol in that time too.

"Hey toots! Have yah thought about what your gunna get smiles for his birthday yet?"

"I'm not sure to be honest. He's a tricky guy to buy for, I'm not sure if he'd even like receiving gifts"

"Well.....you could always.....wait in his room, wearing nothin but a little bow around your neck..."

"Angel! That's-wait? Why would you-"

"I maaay have been walking past the lobby when Alastor and you were talking"

"Angel"

"Don't worry toots, your secret's safe with me. But dayum babe! You've got the radio demon himself wantin yah! You've gotta admit, that's awesome!"

"It is lovely being around him, I can't deny that"

"So? You gunna take my advice?"

"I would, if Alastor was into that"

"Oh yeh! He ain't is he? Damn it. Well, I have no clue what to get him. I don't know him that well"

"I've been trying to think of things that would remind him of happier times, or his memories when he was alive. Something like that, but I've had no luck just yet"

"Hm? That's interesting. Wait! Didn't he live in new Orleans?"

"Yes! He did!"

"Sweet! I'll think of something to do with that! Listen toots, I've gotta go now, but I'll catch up with yah lat'ah"

"Alright Angel, see you soon"

When he left, you tried to have a good long thing about what to get Alastor for his birthday. He was sometimes fond of trinkets, eh, not good enough for a birthday present. Come on think. He enjoys his radio, taking long strolls through pentagram city, spending time in his room that's also part swamp-huh! That's it! Angel had a point about New Orleans, Alastor lived there, and you were the only one he confessed to about his life before he died. And he had the swamp in his room for a reason, to remember. The perfect idea came to your mind, and that was it, you knew exactly what to get him. Getting out your phone, you search for any place you can go to 'acquire' this suprise gift. Hm? The only place that could have some luck is in the Wrath Ring. Somewhere called Rough 'N Tumbleweed Ranch, well, it's better than nothing. The next day was Alastor's birthday. And down stairs in the lobby, you walk up to Charlie, who was bouncing with excitement.

"Oh hey! Hey Y/N! What are you up too?"

"Just on my way out to get Alastor his gift. What about you?"

"Ooooooh! Exciting!! Well, I'm just trying to plan the theme for Alastor's party tonight. I'm not quite sure what to go for. What do you think? (Shows you her note book) big blue and sparkles? Or big red and sparkles?"

"Umm, somehow, I'm not sure Alastor is a sparkles kind of guy"

"Yeh your right. Ugh, I just don't know what theme to do, I'm stuck"

"I know, why not do a 1920's theme? Get everyone to dress up in clothes from that time, and maybe serve his favourite food? Jambalaya. And don't forget, he isn't a fan of sweets, so he wouldn't eat a normal cake. Try putting a candle on a roasted duck? He's said before that he likes that meat, and carving a slice would probably make him happy. And maybe the party food could be similar to the 1920's too? Like deviled eggs, waldorf salad, dutchess potatoes, shrimp cocktail, canapes, olives, or maybe oyster rockefeller?"

"Yes yes YES!! Oh thank you Y/N, your a genius! I'm writing everything you've just said down! (Squeaks) This is going to be perfect! Thank you thank you!"

"I can give you a hand later, but for now, I need to get going"

"Yes! Of course! Go go! Me and the others can make a start on this party, thank you again Y/N! See you soon!"

"Bye Charlie!"

And with that, you were off. Leaving the hotel as Charlie bounds with joy in the background. Taking a walk to the streets, you flag down a taxi and give him the directions to the ranch you saw online. It was a fair distance away, but you were happy when you arrived there, seeing the sign as the taxi pulled over.

After paying, you headed in and looked around for anyone, apparently, this place was owned by an imp family, who had many things in and around their ranch.

"Hey there! Can I help ya'll?"

"Hi! I'm Y/N. I hope you don't mind the drop in, but I saw your ranch online, and see that you sell things to people who offer a good price?"

"Thats right, what're yah wantin today? We've got vehicles and animals available"

"Can I look at your animals please?"

"Sure thing darlin, follow me"

This lovely imp lady takes you to a fenced area, with 2 types of animals already.

"Hear yah go darlin, we've got horses and hogs hear, I'll haggle the price depending on which size you choose"

"These are lovely animals, but I was just wondering if you had something that prefers to stay close to water? Or swampy areas?"

"Ah! I hear yah. Let me take you to the edge of the ranch, we've got a few little critters back there for sale too"

A short walk later, a marshy tree covered green pond, that's also fenced in securely, seems to have many more animals.

"A'right, we've got Hattie over there. She's a water snake, a little bitey though. Over there we've got Wade, the snapping turtle. Be careful around him, he'll snap your fingers off before you can say fuck! And over there we've got Dutchess, she's actually just had a new litter of babies about 2 weeks ago. Their quite cute when they're youngens, and surprisingly easy to train. So all these little thangs are perfect for swampy areas, just take your pick"

"Would it be ok to buy one of Dutchess's babies?"

"Of course yah can! We've got little animal carriers too for yah to take one home. Ya'll fussed about the sex?"

"If it's possible, could it be a female?"

"Absolutely. She only had one boy outta 5 girls. Let me just grab one, yep, this ones definitely a girl. She's at least 2 pounds, and a healthy one too. I'll give her to yah for 200 bucks"

"Sold!"

Link to part 2

#alastor #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel

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